iNeeded You
by Leea Gardner
Summary: Freddie Benson is fresh off his School-At-Sea trip and ready to catch up with his old life. The only question is... what's going on with the blonde-headed demon? Reupload  you're welcome
1. Welcome Wagon

**Once upon a time, a very lazy and unimaginative little girl named Leea wrote a story that was full of promise at the beginning, got lost in it, and then deleted it from her Fanfiction. Several months later when said girl was on summer vacation and had too much free time on her hands, she had an idea for the story, located it on her hard drive, and reuploaded it. Go ahead, take a trip down memory lane.**

**Secondly, if you have never read this story before, welcome aboard the S.S. Teen Angst. We sure do hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Never have I ever claimed to own the rights to the popular television show iCarly.**

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

Carly Shay was dressed in a knee-length deep purple dress, accompanied by lush black hair, a jutting neck line, and black kitten heels, and she simply could not believe her eyes. She was desperately attempting to backtrack her brain and seep his image into her mind. And she could stand there and blink all day long if she felt opposed to, but it wouldn't change the fact that he was really there.

"What?" Freddie Benson teased, pulling his arms across his chest so the blue cotton fabric bulged. "It's been six months. Haven't you been keeping track, eagerly awaiting my return?"

"Oh my god, Freddie, it's great to see you!" Carly exclaimed excitedly, rushing forward and giving her old friend a hug. As his arms wrapped around her slim waist, she was delighted to discover that the 'extremely muscular figure' wasn't just because of his shirt. When he pulled away, his eyes sparkled in that old, familiar way.

"Why don't we get inside? It's freezing."

"It's not cold!" Carly retorted, shooting him that disbelieving look as she pulled open the door to their high school. "Of course, you would think it was. How was the cruise, tech boy?"

"Great," Freddie answered immediately. "I've never eaten so much good food in my life. Thank god there was a gym on board."

_You definitely went all out _Carly mused, curling a strand of hair around her finger as she watched him stride through the hallway like he owned the place. Six months had obviously been a long time—on top of the impeccable figure, his face was rougher, and he was taller than her, finally, by more than just a centimeter. She felt compelled to hug him again and never let him go. When they rounded the corner—that old, familiar corner—she spotted Missy at her locker and beamed.

"Hey Miss, look who's back!" Carly almost shouted. Missy whirled around, slamming the locker right next to Carly's, and grinned too. She glided effortlessly in her two-inch heels—that made her legs seem to go on forever since they were accessorized by a black mini skirt—and wrapped her arms around Freddie's neck like they were old friends.

"Freddie, love, welcome home!" She stated in an extremely arrogant tone that grated on Freddie's nerves. Still, the feeling passed because he was too enthusiastic about being back in Seattle to care. Once the two girls were opposite him, still animated about his return, he launched into his questions.

"How has Seattle been?" He wondered, crossing one foot over the other.

"Tremendously boring," Missy said blandly, giving a roll of her eyes. Carly nodded in an eager respond, switching her brown leather bag to the opposite shoulder.

"But _iCarly_ is always fun," Missy added as an afterthought and Carly let a smile light up her face again.

"Missy has the greatest ideas," She praised and Missy gave her a pleased look.

"You're on the show now?" Freddie wondered, cocking a single eyebrow. "That's cool. Are you filming?"

"As if," Missy scoffed, rolling her eyes again. Freddie had the oddest feeling that that conspicuous action would start to annoy him. "That's Gibby's job. Temporarily, of course. You're _obviously _back in."

"So we have…three hosts now?" Freddie asked, and for the first time since his mom had dropped him off, his stomach began to churn at the slightest innuendo of Sam. He still felt guilty for leaving after she'd asked him for help; so soon after their kiss.

He would never admit that he felt disappointed that things between them hadn't developed further. If he did, she'd hit him as hard as she possibly could. And trust him—that was immensely hard.

"Um, no? That's too much," Missy said, shaking her head delicately. Almost unnoticeably, Carly's face paled and her lips tightened.

"So what does Sam do?" Freddie murmured, the churning in his stomach intensifying. Suddenly, pieces were falling out of place. Carly and Missy were standing super close, looking almost identical in facial expressions and eye make up, and reacting similarly to the different things he said.

And Sam, he noticed now, was no where to be found.

"She's not on the show anymore," Carly whispered as Missy's face hardened.

"Why not?" Freddie demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting her a disappointed look. Carly went to answer the question that was obviously directed at her, but Missy interrupted annoyingly.

"Because she's a _freak_," She spat. Freddie felt his chest swell with anger as he glared at her.

"No she's not," He defended. Missy sneered at him and continued into her story.

"Yes, she is. She completely changed when you left. It wasn't noticeable at first. She was just being a little quieter—eating less. And then she completely flew off the handle and accused me of all these crazy things, so Carly went off on her—"

"I didn't go _off _on her, that's an exaggerat—"

"And then Sam left. She left the apartment; she left school. She came back a week later looking like a _total _mess. She stopped coming to iCarly rehearsals, so I took her spot. She stopped talking to Carly, so I took her spot there, too. And now she only shows her face here half the time. It's despicable."

"You know, I still have the locker right next to you, and I can still hear every word you're saying," Said the voice of Sam Puckett, except that it was different—harsher sounding. The two girls spun around quickly, both clutching a hand to their chest.

But all Freddie could do was stare.

Judging on the smudges on her cheeks and the grease in her hair, she hadn't bathed in days. Her hair lacked the curls of it's past, and her eyes were missing the usual gleam that Freddie remember so clearly—that shimmering blue that entered the iris just as she was going to hit him or insult him. The same sparkle that had haunted him throughout his whole trip. The same glitter in that hallway the last time he'd seen her. Her clothes hung limply from her body, unkempt, filthy, and dark. Her face looked sallower and paler than he remembered.

Missy had been right.

She looked like a mess.

"I didn't see you there," Missy said nonchalantly, placing a preppy hand on her hip. Sam shrugged and opened her locker, and Freddie was amazed to see it was practically empty. A few pieces of paper lay crumpled at the bottom, and a picture fluttered silently to the floor. Freddie waited for her to notice, but she either didn't or she didn't care. Carly was giving her a pitiful look, gnawing absent-mindedly on her bottom lip.

The bell rang and the girls ceased in their viewing of Sam. Missy turned around quickly, moved to Freddie, and pecked him quickly on the cheek.

"See you later?" She wondered, keeping her eyes trained on him. Ignoring the bizarre event that had just occurred, Freddie nodded stupidly and Missy strode out of sight. Carly gave him a parting smile and rushed after her.

And then it was just him and her.

She was obviously trying very hard to pretend he wasn't there—that he wasn't watching her. So, he took the initiative.

"Sam?" He whispered. He wanted to say more—yearned to say more—but that was all his throat was able to choke out. Sam turned to look at him, slamming her locker shut after unsuccessfully retrieving any books.

"What?" She asked, crossing her arms after pulling her jacket hood over her head. Freddie tried to keep a straight face.

"What's going on around here?"

Sam smirked as if she'd secretly been dying for him to ask him this question.

"Well, that little sob story Missy just told you about me 'flying off the handle' is total chiz. But of course, you won't believe _me_ when you could believe _her_. She convinced Carly that I was nuts, and to leave me in the dust. I mean, nobody was there to tell her that was wrong. _You _weren't here. Missy and Carly are the 'it' girls around here. Well, Missy is. Carly's her shadow."

"Why?"

"Why _not_? When Missy got on iCarly, it was the biggest thing to hit Ridgeway. She suddenly had doors held open for her—boys that would do anything she wanted. And Carly got the same amount of attention."

"What about…you?"

"What _about _me? I'm just going to tell you now even though you'll figure it out soon enough: I don't exist. I'm a nonentity. People don't see me around here… and you'd be smart to follow in their example."

Just then, Mr. Howard spun the corner, and Freddie had never been so unhappy to see his sneering, putrid face.

"Freddie, get to class," He demanded, striding by without a second glance at the girl who stood across from him. Shocked, Freddie focused his eyes back on Sam. She gave him one last, final look before she turned around.

"Welcome home, nub," She muttered as she walked for her class, hands deep in her jacket pockets and grass stains on the back of her dirty shorts. Once she was out of sight, Freddie stepped forward quickly and plucked the forgotten photograph off of the floor. With a deep breath, he flipped it around.

Carly, Sam, and himself stared back at him. Carly was beaming, probably laughing at something Sam had just said. He was sticking his tongue out at the camera and Sam was crossing her eyes. He remembered that day—that was at the ice cream shop right after they'd driven Nevel into the flower shop in his "brand new car."

The one thing that was out of place was the huge, shiny red X placed over the blonde girl in the middle's face.

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><p><strong>You know you guys, I think I'm really going to like having this up here again.<strong>

**I'll be reuploading all the older chapters within the next couple of days while I begin writing the new one. I apoligize for deleting, by the way. I was just so ashamed with myself for the massive case of writer's block I was having.**


	2. Ocean Eyes

**Chapter Two**

He had waited two days to see her face again. And for the length of that unbearable period of time, he carefully spoke with Missy and Carly and kept her photo tucked away in his back pocket.

He began to notice something a little strange.

People were waving to him in the hallway—people that he didn't even know. And the girls…had they always giggled so incessantly when he was around? He wasn't quite sure whether he should feel flattered or embarrassed. He was constantly running his tongue over his teeth, wondering if he'd forgotten lunch in between them to cause their laughter. But after the first day, he realized it was simply just his presence that provoked them. Had that always happened? Carly laughed around him, maybe a little bit, but Sam had never uttered a single chuckle because he was cute. No, you'd have to be Sam's polar opposite to laugh because _he _was handsome. You'd have to be her good twin, since she was the evil one.

On the third day, after barely making it out of a group of freshman girls alive, he was standing across from Missy and Carly. Well… Missy was sort of busy dealing with her own batch of the opposite sex, and Carly was helping. He felt like a loser, really, standing there and watching. After a few minutes of this, he spotted her.

She seemed to come out of absolutely no where, as if she had the power to teleport. He could tell she was trying to be sneaky about it as she opened her locker. Her hair was still grimy, and she still wore the same shorts. Feeling brave and just a tad idiotic, Freddie cleared his throat.

"Hey, Sam," He said happily, waving in her direction. Almost instantaneously, the scene around him froze. Carly and Missy stopped flirting with the upperclassman and whirled to glare at him. The boys gave him an odd look and disappeared down the hallway. And Sam… well, she had paused in pulling her jacket over her head, so he couldn't see her face. And yet, he ignored all of this and pushed past Missy and Carly.

"Hey Sam," He repeated, walking a little bit closer to her. "What's up?" She took a tremendously long time to pull the rest of the gray fabric over her head so she could stare at him. Her eyes were as skeptical and untrusting of anybody, and for whatever reason, that depressed him. When had they gone from friends to complete strangers? What had _happened _to her?

"Um, Freddie?" He heard Carly shout in a hoarse whisper. "Come here." She tugged lightly on his arm and spun him around.

"What?" Freddie asked innocently.

"We have to get to class," She said immediately, pulling on his arm again.

"That's okay," Freddie responded, shaking off her grip. "I'm going to walk with Sam." All three girls gave him looks that plainly said, 'We understand that you're temporarily out of your mind, can we please move on?' But Freddie was absolutely being serious. He took a step towards the blonde and she automatically took the same distance backwards, a look close to pure fear evident in her eyes.

"Funny joke, Freddie," Missy spat, and her hands were strong on his arm as she yanked him back to her. "But we're not laughing anymore."

"It's not a joke, I—" However, at this point, Sam had turned point blank and scurried in the other direction. Feeling the fury rise in his chest like a cobra ready to strike, he slowly pivoted to stare at Missy. Once he caught her eyes though, he paused in his deliberately furious comeback.

"Have you lost your _mind_?" She shouted, slapping him sharply on the arm. "You do not say you're going to walk to class with _Sam Puckett_. That's just stupid!"

"Says _you_," Freddie retorted, shoving her hand off of his jacket. "She _used _to be my friend and yours too!" He added, directing his shout at Carly. She flinched and drew back behind Missy.

Typical.

"Freddie, I don't think you understand," Missy said slowly and clearly, as if she felt she had to deal with a three year old. That just irritated Freddie further. "Sam… Sam's not right. She's… mentally unstable."

"Cut the chiz, Missy, that's ridiculous."

"Oh, is it? You should see her crime record, Freddie. It's stacked higher than you stand."

"Sam's always been like that, tho—"

"Not this bad," Carly whispered for the first time the entire conversation. Hearing her timid remark, her first remark since his return to Seattle that regarded Sam, and he automatically felt colder—as if she had given him really terrible news. Carly shot Freddie a nervous look and went back to staring at the floor.

"She's skipped school so many times that they've stopped bothering to count her truancy charges. She's in a fight every other day. She's always running around town on the weekends and getting herself in trouble… I think she spends more time behind bars than in a desk, Freddie."

"Yeah, well. We always knew Sam would get out of control if you had abandoned her."

That one remark twisted the conversation. Immediately, Carly was silenced, watching the floor intently now, as if the linoleum had a story to tell. Missy, on the other hand, looked fired up.

"Don't," She said harshly, "you _dare _turn this on her. Sam stopped ignoring her first, not the other way around!"

"Yeah, because you were making her life a living—"

"DON'T TURN THIS ON ME EITHER!" Missy screeched. Freddie had the strongest urge to place his hands childishly over his eardrums at her shrill tone. "It's _Sam's _fault!"

"Sam can't help that people abandoned—"

"FINE. Then if it's not Carly's fault and it's not mine and it's not Sam's, it's yours."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it, Benson? Think about it—she's fine while you're here. All of a sudden, you leave and she starts accusing me of all these crazy things!"

"Well, maybe they weren't _false _accusations, Missy."

There was a pause. Missy pulled back, fixing him with a hard glare.

"How would you even know, Freddie? You weren't here, do you not remember?"

But of course he remembered. He could recite their conversation in the hallway flawlessly. He knew she needed him, and he'd left anyways. And every day on that ship, her eyes would appear in the ocean, her face reoccur again and again in his dreams. He'd made a mistake—and every day he felt bad about it, especially now that he was back. The bell rang and the noise was raucous in his numb ears.

"Come on Freddie," Missy murmured, reaching forward and wrapping his hand around his wrist in a loving way. Had he been in his right mind, he would've shaken her off immediately out of disgust, but he couldn't bring himself to reprimand her. He knew that Missy was beginning to think of him as her property, as she did of every other boy at this school. He was going to have to stop that.

He turned around one last time to notice the direction that she'd left in, and was surprised to see her standing there. Her hood was pulled around her as usual, arms crossed over her chest as she watched him from the corner. She'd heard every word Missy had uttered, and he knew that Sam thought she'd been correct in who was to blame for her current state. And for just one short moment, Freddie spotted that old sparkle in her eyes as they stared at one another. For that one second, the old Sam was back, and he had a wild thought that she going to run forward and criticize his appearance. But the moment passed and Sam Puckett rounded the corner, leaving Freddie to wish that he had been able to go with her.


	3. Blood Stained Kisses

**Chapter Three**

Sam didn't show on Friday, but Freddie hadn't expected her to. And for that, he hated himself—only a little bit, though. Still, the fury was there as he realized that he was becoming just like everybody else. Sam Puckett was invisible to Ridgeway. She was a ghost to the people who resided at the school regularly. And now, he was slowly turning the other cheek as well.

So, to make up for his ghastly behavior, he dashed out of his last class quickly and began to speed through his homework pack-up for the weekend. Just as he was done and the teal blue metal was coming to a close, Missy arrived.

"Hey, Freddie," She said in her best charming-girly voice. Freddie jumped at her sudden appearance, clutching his backpack closer to him in his left hand.

"So _close,_" He murmured bitterly, slamming the locker shut and standing up. He was surprised that Carly wasn't there, too. She usually followed in Missy's footsteps. As he pulled himself to his full height, Missy scooted over to him and smiled genially into his face.

"Are you busy later?" She asked and Freddie was terrified when he realized she was being a flirt. He swallowed hard and took an almost unnoticeable step back.

"I'm actually going somewhere right now," He admitted, and was disgusted when Missy took the same space forward, getting impossibly closer to him.

"Where are you going?" She whispered, playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

_Okay. Enough is enough._

Freddie gently placed his hand over hers so she would relinquish the fabric. He then placed two hands lightly on her shoulders and stepped her back so they could both breathe again.

"I'm going to the Groovy Smoothie to see if they have a job opening," He lied easily, pulling his backpack on and maneuvering to leave the school. Missy, clearly not receiving his message, followed quickly behind him.

"Sounds boring. Why don't we hang out instead?"

"Thanks for the offer, but maybe next time."

Missy opened her mouth as if she were going to speak again, but to Freddie's immense relief, a boy across the hall hollered for her and she came to a pause.

"Bye Freddie," She said, grabbing his hand and spinning him around. She reached for his lips, but at the last second, Freddie turned his head and her mouth was presented with his cheek. With a small, irritated huff, she finally departed. Freddie, mentally shaking himself and deliberating how harsh he would have to be with her next time, walked unsurely out of the school. Without thinking too hard about his final destination, Freddie walked briskly down the Seattle streets, always keeping his head down. He knew the directions perfectly, considering he and Carly had walked the same path numerous times to collect her for days at the park.

He'd just never met her mom, and had no intention of changing that fact.

Her street sped into view, and he was outside her house too quickly. Swallowing his insecurity so it seared his Adam's apple, Freddie tripped lightly to the front door. He brought a clenched, determined fist to the wood and rapped twice. Immediately, his hands found his hoodie's pockets, and his eyes located the pavement. He held his breath for a while, but exhaled when he realized nobody was making any effort to go for the door.

Then again, why would Sam want to see him?

He felt like he should've stayed longer, and his gut was screaming at him to make the conscious effort and turn around, but his feet pulled him away from the door. He was almost completely off of her walkway when he heard the distinct ruffle of bushes and whirred around in fright.

"Oh for the love of—" Sam mumbled as she entered from the side street onto her property. She glared at Freddie for a few moments before sprinting straight for her door. Freddie, being in the excellent shape that he was in, was able to reach the entrance in the same amount of time and slam his hand to stop its closing.

"We need to talk," He demanded while she pushed pointlessly against his muscles.

"What are you even doing here?" She shouted after she gave up forcing him away. She crossed her arms over her thin—too thin—chest, and that was when Freddie noticed the blood on her cheek. Without saying a word, he reached forward and attempted to erase it with his thumb. She smacked his hand away and punched him in the arm.

He was devastated when he found her punches barely hurt anymore.

Feeling the old Sam-and-Freddie reaction flow through him, he reached up again and dragged his thumb across her face. She slapped his hand away again, but did not punch him. Finally, Freddie pulled up and transferred the blood to his finger, and Sam didn't say a word the whole time, merely watched him with wide eyes. That was the way they'd always been. If he didn't give up too quickly, she let him have a chance. As the blood seeped into his skin, they stared at each other without speaking.

"Not mine," She clarified after a few moments, motioning to his hand. He nodded in response—Sam was too tough to have her own blood smeared on her face.

Still, he was upset that she'd been in an intense enough fight that blood had been drawn. She gave an irritated huff, opposite Missy's annoying one twenty minutes earlier, and shot him daggers with her eyes.

"Is there a reason you're here, Benson? Because you're crushing my door with your hulk hands, and letting the heat out."

"You could always let me inside." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"My mom's not home," She challenged.

"All the more reason," He retorted.

Still, she held her ground, so Freddie attempted to push past her. The first time, she stepped in front of him and shoved him back. The second, she just stepped in front of him. The third time, he gained access to the living room.

She was so predictable sometimes.

He didn't pause as he walked for her bedroom, and he didn't try to ignore the fact that she was hot on his heels. He came to a halt in front of the all-familiar passageway and placed a warm hand on the cold handle.

"Will I be surprised when I open the door?" He whispered, turning his head slightly so he could see her. Her dull blue eyes stared past him, almost in a different world.

"I hope you don't think I'm weird," She said softly. With that temptation, Freddie pushed into her room.

He wondered about the various birthday cards Carly and himself had given her over the years, the drawings and notes and little trinkets that she used to have up all around the room, a reminder of all their memories together. The majority of them had all disappeared. Instead, three of the walls were what he had been afraid to see. Scary looking, tattooed band posters and darkness. When had she become so dark?

But one wall was clear, and he recognized it from before he had left.

There were six framed photos of them, and each one held its own special meaning. One was of Carly, hand on hip and grinning genuinely into the camera. The next was of him, holding his bulky camera and sending the photographer a thumbs up. There was one of Carly and Sam, arms around each other and laughing. There were two of all three of them, and even one with just him and Sam, obviously in the middle of an intense argument that Carly must've snapped when they hadn't been paying attention.

The one thing that was off was the four red Xs on the glass directly over the blonde's face.

"Why do you do that?" He murmured, absent-mindedly pulling her lost photo out of his back pocket—where is always was.

"Because she doesn't belong there," Sam answered, moving past him—snatching the picture out of his hand as she went—and taking a seat lightly on her bed. Freddie moved with her as if she had been pulling his hand.

"I think she does," He said softly as he took the seat next to her on the bed.

"Nobody cares what you think," She retorted. Freddie sighed deeply and turned to look at her.

"Sam, can we talk about—"

But his words were lost. The sparkle had resumed its position in Sam's eyes, and she was scooting ever closer to him. Her mind seemed to hesitate for a moment before her hands slipped into his hoodie pockets and her lips sealed themselves to his. It lasted only a second, and Freddie was glad, because he'd been too shocked to react anyways.

"Can we not talk?" She whispered, pulling one hand free of his jacket and locking it in his hair. She draped her legs across his lap and pulled his face to hers in one graceful movement.

And how could Freddie object? He'd been waiting for a moment like this since he'd returned. In fact, he'd had a crazy dream that when she'd seen his face again on that very first day, she leap into his arms automatically.

This was almost as sweet. His hand clasped around her face, and when he opened his eyes for just a second, he noticed the dried blood on his thumb. He shook himself mentally and closed his eyes again, but the red X's were tattooed on his eyelids.

This girl wasn't the Sam he'd been expecting when he came home.

She still wasn't Sam.

With great difficultly and mind-over-body control, he pealed himself away from her. The disappointed groan that escaped her lips was almost enough to pull him right back to her.

Almost.

"I can't," He whispered. "Not…not until you tell me wh—what happened."

A playful smirk lit up her gorgeous, sallow face.

"You're breathless," She commented in a completely even tone. "That's sexy."

Both hands clasped in his hair this time, and Freddie fought against them with all his will power. Sam groaned again in defeat and snapped her arms to her sides, but left her legs across his, which made it only impossibly harder to concentrate.

"I don't like talking," Sam murmured. "Especially about that past. It requires thinking about that very thing, and I don't like thinking about that."

"Where's your mom?" Freddie tried for starters. Sam smirked again and gave a cutesy shrug of her shoulders.

"Haven't seen her in a really long time."

"Why?"

"Ugh, who cares Freddie? We're alone in my house, in my room, on my bed. Please tell me _why _we are talking."

"Because I need to know," Freddie said, finally catching his breath and fixing her with a straight face. "I need to know everything that happened while I was gone. I need to know why you're so skinny, why you don't talk to Carly, why you don't go to school, and why you don't see your mom. I need to know why you had blood on your cheek this afternoon and I need to know why you just attacked me."

"Oh, well that's easy," She said simply. She scooted up a little bit so her legs dangled off the end of his knees. Before she spoke, she pulled Freddie's hands to the middle of her lower back and leaned into them a bit.

"I don't eat as much as I used to, so you just think I'm skinny. Carly is best friends with Missy now, so she doesn't need me. School is for chumps. She's always off with a guy. I got in a fight with this loser who looked at me wrong. Lastly, Freddie Benson, I didn't _attack _you. I kissed you. And why shouldn't I? It's my life, right? I run it. In fact, I think I'm going to do it again. Quite frankly, I don't care what you think."

She placed her cold hands on the back of his neck and pulled him to her again.

Freddie's heart told him that her answers weren't satisfactory, and he should stop her again. But his body was screaming at him to go with it. Therefore, he went with it, and for the moment, he pushed the idea out of his head that this girl wasn't kissing him because she loved him.

She was kissing him because she could.


	4. Pajama Parties with Old Friends

**Chapter Four**

When the bright, warm sunlight flooded Freddie's bedroom on Saturday morning, he woke up with the feeling of euphoria and completeness in the pit of his stomach. He lay still for a second before letting out a satisfied sigh and flipping over in the direction of his window.

It was still open from when he had snuck in late. With a small chuckle, he threw back the suffocating comforter and padded across his chilly wood floor to shut the exit to the outside world. Even as he did, he couldn't actually believe it had happened. He stared unseeingly at the golden sun as it just appeared over the high-top buildings and smiled at absolutely nothing. Today was a beautiful day.

He thought he heard the faint, tantalizing sound of bacon sizzling in a pan and immediately headed for the doorway. For whatever reason, every step was carefully timed and he made sure not to pound too heavily on the floor. He peered around the corner as the delicious smell wafted into his nose and gave a grin.

"Morning Mom," He said happily, holding on to the wall with two hands. Instead of the friendly 'good morning' greeting or a meticulous check of his hair for any assaulting creature, his mother remained motionless. Feeling just a tad nervous, he stepped forward, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"Mom?" He tried again. "Are you okay?" Another pregnant, awkward pause followed before she finally spun around, two plates in her hands, one piled high with pancakes and a generous amount of bacon. Freddie automatically reached forward, eager to receive his favorite breakfast. The same distance he took, his mother took backwards and he was beginning to be seriously irritated.

"You will get your breakfast," She murmured, "when I get the truth."

And one word rang clear as a bell through his mind: busted.

He didn't say a word. He simply clapped his hands behind his back and stared his mother straight in the face. She watched him too for a few moments before sighing and saying sternly, "Where were you last night?"

"At a friend's house," He said truthfully.

"What kind of friend?"

"An old one."

"I meant _female_ or _male_ Fredward."

"Female."

"Okay. At least you told the truth. Even if you did lie though, I could call you out on it. Your hickeys are everywhere."

With an embarrassed blush, Freddie clapped a hand to his neck and turned away. Girls were never an easy subject to talk about with his mother. Well, really, no subject was an easy subject to talk about with _his _mother. He tentatively went for his breakfast again, but his mother held it back with one hand, and with the other squeezed the bridge of her nose.

"Please tell me it was Carly Shay," She muttered with a grimace. "If it had to be anybody, please let it be Carly Shay…"

"Should I lie to you?" Freddie asked innocently. All of his mother's worst nightmares were confirmed and she let his breakfast down on the table with a sickening bang. Immediately, he tore into it, considering he hadn't eaten at Sam's and had stayed well past midnight.

It wasn't like they'd spent the _whole _time making out. Every once and a while, she would pull away and ask him questions about himself. That was the deal; he talked and she listened. If he even attempted to ask her questions, she got up and left the room. He hated when she'd done that, and it had happened multiple times.

"Freddie? Are you even listening to me?"

"Wha'?" Freddie asked through a mouthful of pancake.

"Was it that Missy girl?"

With a shudder that ripped through his core, Freddie swallowed all his food—partly chewed, partly not so it stung his throat—and shook his head ferociously.

"That will happen," He muttered, "when pigs fly." With another aggravated sigh, his mother let her head drop into her hands.

"Who was it then?" She asked sternly. "Tell me who it was."

Freddie hesitated for a moment before quickly diving on top of his tall stack, slicing as much as possible and shoving it into his mouth so he could avoid answering. His mom had never liked Sam "The Delinquent" Puckett, and that was before she started giving him hickeys. A hard fist came down on the table and Freddie gave a startled jump.

"Tell me right now, or I swear you will not leave this apartment for weeks!"

"Sam," He choked, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was Sam."

There was a tense pause and Freddie had suddenly lost his appetite. As slowly as he possibly could, he stood up and retreated to the trash can. Expecting his mom to explode at any minute, he quickly scraped the remains into the bin and gently let the plate down in the sink. Throughout the whole time, his mother sat still in her chair, watching him with contemplative eyes. When the pressure became overwhelming, Freddie crossed his arms over his chest.

"What?" He asked. "Is that a problem?"

"Are we talking—talking about Sam _Puckett_?"

"Yes," He answered evenly.

"Freddie! How far away did you go?"

"What?"

"Does she even _live_ in Seattle?"

A feeling of nausea washed over him and he shook like an earthquake for a moment. Just for that second though. Then his anger was completely under control. He supposed he shouldn't really be surprised that humanity's ignorance of the beautiful, tormented blonde had seeped into his mother as well. Without a second word, Freddie spun on his heel and went back to his bedroom. His mother beckoned for him but he ignored her easily. He ripped a crumpled penny tee out of the first drawer he could wrench open and forced it over his head. He didn't know where he was going, but anywhere was better than where he was now. He snatched his pear phone off the counter and stuffed it into his flannel pajama pants.

"I'm going out," Freddie announced to his mother as he strolled back into the kitchen. He kept a cool tone and a truculent face as he headed for the door.

"You will not," His mother said fiercely. "You will stay in this household."

"You can ground me when I get back."

"Fredward Benson—"

"I'm just going to _Carly's_ mom," He decided on the spot. Maybe he would and maybe he wouldn't. For a second, he considered asking Sam to join him there, but only for a second, because he remembered that the best friends were no longer visible to each other. His mother toyed with her necklace for a moment.

"Be back in an hour," She said sharply.

"Fine," He answered, and the door swung shut with a final bang. He stood still in the hallway a moment, staring at the shiny number on Carly's apartment.

They hadn't really talked since his return. She didn't seem to have a mind of her own anymore, really. All she did was follow Missy around, laugh at her jokes, and back her up in arguments. He sighed and pulled out his phone, clicking the shortcut for the new text, and staring blankly at the screen. Debating himself for a while, he slowly typed in 'Hey, what's up? :)' and sent it to Sam. Feeling completely lame and utterly insignificant, he crossed the hallway and rapped twice.

"Door's open!" He heard Carly shout. That all familiar grant of permission never failed to make Freddie smile. The door swung open under his light grasp, and there sat Carly, not dolled up in her usual gobs of make-up and short skirts, but just plain old Carly with messy hair and bunny slippers.

"Oh, God," She grumbled, shooting up from the couch with her cereal bowl clasped tightly in her hands. "Freddie, I didn't—I'm still in my pajamas!"

"It's cool," Freddie said with a smile. "I am too. Good thing we both rock the PJ's look." And finally, she smiled too, and resumed her seat on the plush couch. He joined her while she flipped off the television. For that moment, Freddie felt whole. He felt like he did in the old days. For that moment, he felt as if the third and final piece of their jigsaw puzzle would walk through the door any minute, ignoring the fact that she was late and demanding food.

"Carly, I need you to tell me what happened with Sam," Freddie murmured, ruining their small moment of perfection. Carly's lips twisted and she fiddled with her hands.

"Missy and I already—"

"No, you didn't," He interrupted sharply. "Missy told me her bias side, and you nodded like a puppet. She's not here to tell you you're wrong. I know that when I left here, Carly, you cared about Sam. If you don't mind, I want to know why you don't even look at her anymore."

Carly swallowed hard and turned away. After another pause, Freddie gave an innocent sigh and rested his hand on her knee.

"Please Carly?" He murmured. "I feel so lost when I'm around you anymore. I have a six-month gap in my memory, and I just want to be able to fill it."

Carly tucked a single strand of fly-away hair behind her ear and looked up at him.

"I like to believe it's not my fault," She admitted. "But I know it is."

Freddie waited while Carly collected herself. In fact, he was pleasantly surprised she'd been so easy to get talking. Secretly, he suspected she'd wanted to tell her side of the story all along.

"Well, let's start with the day after you left. Umm... I was in school. Right after first period. Sam came over to me while I was at my locker completely soaked head to toe. I freaked out and asked her what happened she said that Missy had propped a bucket of water over the stall that Sam had been in in the girl's bathroom. Of course, I didn't believe her and told her to stop being so mean to Missy. So then Sam kind of yelled at me for yelling at her, and then I yelled back. We were both really angry and then the bell rang and we went our separate ways. I met up with Missy and she told me to just forget it. Sam would get over it soon enough." Carly paused here and Freddie's stomach churned dangerously, ready to spill the contents of his breakfast. When he finally got the courage to look in Carly's eyes, he was horrified to spot the first, single tear creeping down her cheek.

"I should've… I should've listened to her," Carly whispered, her voice hosting that awfully sad tone to it just before a person slipped into hysterics. Freddie wasn't sure if he was supposed to hug her or not.

"Sam was right… She'd been right all along…"

Freddie paused, wondering if he'd heard her correctly. He didn't dare say a word for fear that Carly wouldn't continue.

"I noticed her changes. She was talking less and hitting people more. She was eating less and flirting with random guys I didn't even know. It was like she completely went off the deep end, and wasn't sure which 'messed up kid' stereotype to hit. She was _begging _for attention, I just know it. All she wanted was for me to and talk to her and I… I didn't do it Freddie."

The tears were flowing freely now and Freddie's heart was breaking more and more as the seconds ticked on.

"I know she didn't mean it," Carly blubbered. "Not as first, anyways. She wasn't really this bad kid. She was faking it. She wanted someone to care. She wanted _me _to care. But Missy… Missy told me to ignore it. I don't know why I listened Freddie, I really don't. Missy and I became really close, but everyday I thought about her. I tried talking to her, but Missy was always pulling some guy over, or throwing me a tube of mascara, or dangling the idea of a wonderful party in front of my face. So I went with it. That was when Sam stopped coming to school… Only for a few days. I think that was a cry for attention too, just to see if anybody would notice. And I did notice, I swear I did. But I never said anything. I was too busy with v-necks and boy after countless boy. She needed me Freddie, and I—I abandoned… I abandoned her…"

In every sense of the word, Carly lost it. Freddie did too, amazingly, and he vainly wiped the few measly tears away. Carly's arms laced around his neck and she bawled into his shoulder.

"You were right," She sobbed. "It's my fault, it's all my fault…"

"No it's not Carly," Freddie countered, fighting the sad tone that now resided in his voice. "It's mine. Sam asked for my help and I completely ignored her… I went on that stupid School-At-Sea trip…"

Suddenly, Carly pulled away and stared at him.

"I want to be her friend, Freddie," She declared, wiping away the tears as she went. "I owe her that much."

"So be her friend."

"It's not that easy. Missy is dead set against it."

"Who CARES what Missy thinks?"

"She believes that I do! I know all those terrible things she did to Sam were true—she could do the same thing to me. I know it sounds selfish. And what if we can't get through to Sam? What if she's… lost it for good?"

"You need to stop thinking what if, Carly, and just go for it. I'm right here with you. We can do this together. We can get Sam back." Carly seemed to think for a moment before she nodded eagerly.

"You're right," She declared. "We're gonna fix this."

"'Atta girl," Freddie praised. He was so surprised at the way this conversation had panned out. It truly was a stroke of luck that Carly was on the exact same page as he was. He stood up immediately, ready to dash out the door and head straight for Sam's house.

"What are you doing!" Carly shouted, tugging on his hand and pulling him back to the couch.

"Shouldn't we leave now…?" He asked, glancing back longingly at the door.

"No! That would be crazy! And anyways, Missy's on her way over…"

"I thought we weren't going to care about Missy anymore!"

"We're not," Carly agreed, "but we can't just jump head first into this. We need to plan carefully. Sam and Missy are both capable of some pretty intense stuff."

"Oh, _please_ Carly. Do I need to make a muscle? I can take both of them no problem."

"Freddie, this isn't boy world where every problem is resolved with fists. This is girl world. Here, we use sly remarks to ruin your self esteem and dangle boys in front of each other's faces. May I just say, welcome to the worst place on earth. Everything here has to be perfectly thought out. Now, first of all, do you see the fatal flaw in the plan almost immediately?"

"You lost me at 'this is girl world'."

"Okay, okay. Ignore it. Freddie, _you're _the target in this situation. Missy wants you _so bad_. It's disgusting. She never shuts up about you."

"I really don't want to vomit, thanks," Freddie grumbled. Carly rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. In that moment, Freddie thought of Sam, and without truly thinking about it, his mouth started moving.

"I was at Sam's last night," He said. Carly's eyes widened.

"She didn't… you guys… did you…?" She asked, sounding worried.

"Err, kiss?"

"Yeah…that's the word."

"We…may have. Is that bad?"

But already, Carly was groaning and running her fingers through her hair.

"This is going to be harder than I thought," She complained.

"What is?" Freddie demanded, crossing his arms over his chest too. Carly sighed and looked at Freddie's feet that were tucked under him.

"If you and Sam had a thing, it's gonna make it a lot harder for her to watch when you date Missy. Because Freddie, you _are _going to date Missy. That is a necessity."


	5. Prissy Girls and Cotton Candy Swirls

**Chapter Five**

Freddie had never been more displeased on the bitter arrival of his alarm on Monday morning. Not only was it bad enough waking up at five thirty in the morning—before the sun even decided to show it's face—but he had simply been dreading this day since his departure of Carly's house on Saturday.

He showered slowly, slow enough to the point where his mother had to bang on the door to get him out and ready for school in time. He dressed slowly, too, and tried to ignore what the day's events would bring.

The bus—that he very rarely ever rode—dropped him off in front of the school three minutes to seven. He dragged his feet as if they were made of stone over to his locker and put in the combination with about as much enthusiasm as a sloth.

"Freddie?" A girl asked. Freddie jumped in the air, clutching his book bag closer to him and taking a step away from the voice.

Carly Shay stood perfectly still, her hair scrunched cutely down her shoulders and a snug, wool dress hugging her body. She switched her oversized leather bag to one shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you were Missy," He murmured, clearly embarrassed, as he resumed the gathering of his textbooks.

"Well I sure hope that's not how you're going to react when you actually _do _see her," Carly hissed, looking around suspiciously. "She'll definitely suspect something."

Freddie snarled in her direction. Ever since that fateful Saturday morning Freddie had been in the worst mood possible. Carly, after many painstaking arguments, had convinced him that asking Missy out was the first step to their plan. After fighting her for hours on end, Freddie finally got the idea that if he and Missy dated, she'd be less suspicious. Plus, he'd have easy access into her life. At least, that's what Carly kept telling him. He didn't exactly see why Missy wasn't supposed to be suspicious—or what there was for Missy to be suspicious of—but for the sake of his sanity, he'd just decided to go along with it. Carly seemed rather convinced that Missy was a force that shouldn't be reckoned with, and Freddie didn't want to upset her. So he gave in.

It didn't stop him from dreading the idea.

The bell rang and Freddie gave a grateful sigh, thanking whoever had been in charge of the timely buzzing, and throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

"Well, I better get to class—" He said quickly, beginning to speed in the other direction until Carly caught hold of his bag.

"Not so fast," She muttered. "The bell rings again in eight minutes and—look, here comes Missy!" Freddie groaned and Carly elbowed him neatly in the ribs before moving forward to hug Missy. In the equally as short dress, Carly and Missy could've been wearing identical outfits.

"Hi Freddie," Missy said, smiling a bit and fluttering her eyelashes. Freddie was glad he hadn't eaten breakfast—he could've hurled.

"Er, hey, Missy," He said, putting on his best brave face. He glanced at Carly who nodded encouragingly. "I was wondering…" He continued, shifting uneasily on his feet. "If you wanted to, maybe—"

"Hey, Benson," A familiar voice called. Freddie froze, and he wouldn't believe there was a worse time for her to finally warm up to him than now. He turned around and saw Sam who was going to her locker.

Her hair looked, amazingly, as if she'd taken a brush to it. She still wore the filthy shorts and baggy sweatshirt, but there was definitely an improvement. And the oddest thing of it all was the look she was sending him.

She wasn't exactly smiling, but her lips curled a bit at the edges and her eyes had gained a hint of enthusiasm. She wasn't back to herself, but you could see it in corners of her eyes—you could see the hope they had gained.

The hope he was about to destroy.

"Hey Puckett," He replied, trying not to sound too disheartened. She must've heard it anyways because her face lost its new-found joy. He took a deep breath and reluctantly turned away from her. Carly caught his eyes for a moment, and she looked just as heart broken as he felt, but she gave him her last approving look.

_This is for Sam, _he reminded himself. He tried repeating what Carly had pressed upon him. _If I don't do this, Missy could destroy her. She can't handle it anymore… She's lost so much… She's so fragile… _

It was ironic. You never heard the words 'Sam Puckett' and 'fragile' together in the same sentence in his past unless it was, 'Did you see Sam Puckett beat that fragile kid up?'

"If you wanted to go to dinner with me Friday night," Freddie muttered, avoiding Missy's eyes and trying to avoid any sound from Sam, although he was sure he wouldn't hear any.

"Like a date?" Missy wondered, her voice hosting an excited tone.

"I guess," Freddie said. He was trying his best not to take it all back, turn around, and hug Sam until she pushed him away.

"Like… as boyfriend and girlfriend?"

Freddie finally looked up and noticed the sparkle in Missy's eyes. It made him sick to his very core. He glanced once more at Carly who was watching the person behind him. A fresh batch of nausea caught him.

"Sure," Freddie managed to utter without ruining her shoes. Missy giggled like a little girl and clapped her hands together.

"Oh, Freddie, I thought you'd never ask!"

Before he could comprehend the situation, Missy's arms were around his neck and her lips were on his. It wasn't anything like kissing Sam—the first big difference was that he didn't want to be kissing her. He pulled away almost instantly and muttered, "We better go, bell's gonna ring soon."

Missy, still glowing with pride, grabbed his hand and gripped it tightly. He knew she thought he was hers—he knew he was going to be treated as her property. Carly walked dutifully beside her, smiling whenever Missy looked her way and shooting a meaningful glance at Freddie that quite simply said that she was proud of him.

He wasn't proud of himself. He didn't want things to be like this. For the thousandth time, he wished he hadn't taken the school at sea trip.

With a hint of hesitation, Freddie turned around one last time to try and catch a glimpse of the girl he'd just hurt, of the girl he'd just ruined, of the girl he very possibly could love…

But she wasn't there. Just like her hope, she'd disappeared into thin air.

x

After a terrible week and the most grueling date of his entire life, Freddie was walking home. Missy had been picked up—finally—in her daddy's fancy limousine. She'd kissed him goodbye for the hundredth time and had climbed into the car without bothering to cover herself under her impossibly short dress.

Not that Freddie had even bothered to look. By that time, he was tired of pretending that he actually cared about her. Besides, in a few minutes' time, Carly would be pounding down his door, demanding he relive every last awful detail.

Unless, of course, he took a detour…

He always loved when the circus came to town. Some people refused to go because they were afraid of germs and Carnies, but he loved it. His mother was never really fond of them, and perhaps that was the reason he enjoyed them so much. He reckoned he had about thirty or forty dollars left over from the date (Carly had warned him that Missy was a big spender and had given him a lot of her own money), and that was certainly enough to buy him a ride on the Ferris Wheel and a bag of cotton candy.

He cut through a few bushes and found himself smack in the middle of the fair. It was almost deserted, but the people working it looked full of life. They beamed at him from every station and beckoned him to come play. He politely shook his head in refusal and began his trek towards the cotton candy machine. As he walked, his shoes created little puffs of dust on the dirt road and the smell of popcorn was strong. He sighed contently, staring into the star-speckled night sky.

"Hey, kid, quit looking up. The lady here needs a competitor."

Freddie quickly looked down and over at the man who was calling his name. He had a beer gut, a balding head, and a few teeth missing in his smile. Still, Freddie smiled back and sidled over to the squirt guns.

"Sure, how much?" He questioned, nearly reaching the man and hooded figure sitting on the stool.

"Doesn't matter," The girl on the stool murmured. "I was just leaving."

Sam's hood fell back, releasing her tangled curls, and she shot up from the chair, looking about ready to take off running. Shocked at her sudden appearance, Freddie reached out and grabbed her arm before she could disappear.

"Sam?" He asked, hoping he didn't sound stupid.

"Let me go," She said harshly. No slight sound of enthusiasm. No nicknames. Just complete and utter lifelessness.

"Sam, come on, just one game."

"No."

"I want to explain—"

"There's nothing to explain."

"Clearly, there is. Last Friday…"

"Last Friday was nothing."

"Now, I don't believe that for a second. Come on, please sit down. I'll pay."

"No."

"What, are you afraid I'll beat you?"

And there it was, the right nerve to strike. Sam paused in her struggling and gave an angry huff.

"As if, Benson," She spat, and she whirled around and resumed her seat. Freddie paid the two dollars to join the game and took his seat.

"If I win," He murmured to her, "I get to explain."

"And if I win?" She asked.

"I'll buy you a bag of cotton candy and you can leave."

"Deal."

"Just one game, though."

"Bring it, Benson."

Baldy smiled at both of them.

"On your marks," He said in his thick New York accent. "Get set. Go!"

Freddie, practically being raised on this game, easily outstripped Sam. When his frog reached the top before hers, she groaned in defeat and pounded her fists against the table.

"One more," She demanded.

"We didn't agree on that," He said coolly. Baldy handed him a giant stuffed bear which Freddie offered to Sam. She snorted at it, crossed her arms over her chest, and stood up.

"You have a minute," She told him, "to catch my interest, or I'm leaving."

"Well, here's the truth: I hate Missy with a burning passion."

"Oh, please."

"I'm serious, Sam. I wouldn't lie about this. She drives me nuts. The only reason I'm… dating her is because it's a part of Carly's weird plan to bring her down."

"That's the biggest crap story I've ever heard. Carly and Missy are best friends."

"Carly can't stand her either," Freddie stressed, feeling helpless as he watched Sam drift away. Surely his minute was going to expire soon. "I'll even call her and have her tell you herself if you want me to."

Sam hesitated. During her distraction, Freddie whipped out his phone and quickly scrolled to Carly. He was about to press call when a cold, thin hand landed on top of his.

"Don't," Sam murmured. "I guess I believe you. You don't need to bring Carly into this." At first Freddie was irritated that Sam didn't want to talk to Carly, and then he remembered that he wasn't exactly sure the last time the girls did talk. Sam watched him for a moment and frowned.

"How is dating Missy supposed to overthrow her?" She wondered, shooting him a skeptical look.

"I said the same thing," He agreed. "I still have no freaking idea what it's going to help, but Carly seems pretty positive that it will."

"What, did she have a crush on you or something?"

Freddie grimaced, and Sam took that as a yes.

"Cute," She said lamely, her face taking on the same disgusted mask that his wore. He just hoped and prayed that Sam wouldn't ask anymore questions about it. She may be okay with hearing that Missy was being overthrown, but if she heard Missy was being overthrown for her…

"So why are you guys doing this?" Sam wondered, the skeptical look taking back its rightful place in her eyes. Freddie cursed under his breath and quickly attempted to save himself.

"Does anybody like Missy?" He muttered, adding a small chuckle at the end and stuffing the hand that wasn't holding the bear in his pocket. With a smirk, Sam reached forward and snatched the bear from him.

"Buy me cotton candy," She demanded, and she strode off towards the machine. Freddie looked up from the ground to watch her retreating figure. With a soft smile, he jogged to catch up with her.

Approximately two bags of cotton candy, one corndog, three stuffed animals, and an hour later, Sam and Freddie were boarding the Ferris Wheel. By now, the whole place was cleared out, but since Sam and Freddie continued to buy things, the Carnies let them stay. Sam got in the cart first and Freddie joined her. The older woman slammed the door shut and sent them flying backwards. Freddie had asked Sam about how she was doing twice only to receive a fistful of cotton candy shot at him. She—obviously—still didn't want to talk about it. Freddie just hoped she knew he cared.

While he daydreamed, Sam was watching him. She didn't exactly believe everything he'd told her tonight, but she found that she didn't really care. It was nice to have somebody around again. Her gaze trailed to his eyes and she recognized his thinking face almost immediately. She smiled to herself. It was so refreshing to have Freddie around again. It was almost as if he'd never left—as if she wasn't as screwed up as she was. Almost as if he'd ever be able to repair the damage he'd caused.

But Sam didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think about her absent mother, absent friends, or absences at school. She didn't want to think about how hard it would be getting to sleep tonight after she left Freddie.

She didn't want to think about any of it. Instead, she reached forward and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. It was chilly in Seattle, especially way up in the sky, and she snuggled into his side.

"Well hi there," He murmured, chuckling a bit. Sam just kept smiling. She hadn't felt so healthy in a long time.

"Hello," She whispered back.

The Ferris Wheel conductor let them go around a bunch of times. Finally, she stopped them at the very top, at the very best spot in the whole carnival. Sam hoped she'd keep them there for a long time.

"I hope this isn't a dream," Sam said softly, staring out into the building bespeckled skyline. She was sure that if she strained hard enough she could hear the sound of car alarms and deep basses, but right now, the silence was nice.

"It's not," Freddie assured her. "This is completely real."

"You can't be sure of that."

"Of course I can. I've pinched myself a billion times already to check."

Sam let out a laugh—a real laugh—and looked up at him. He smiled back at her, but she didn't miss the look of concern in his eyes.

"You know," She murmured. "You can stop looking at me like I might commit suicide at any moment, because I won't. I'm still the strong Sam you knew, Freddie. I can still beat you up if I wanted to," She joked half-heartedly even though she wasn't completely sure it was true anymore. The amount of strength she'd lost seemed to have found new ground in the arm that was wrapped around her.

"Plus, I'm happy here. I like being with you."

Freddie was silent, and Sam hoped she hadn't sounded too mushy. It was true—they weren't on any level the Sam and Freddie of their past. In the past, if they'd ever been stuck in a Ferris Wheel like this, one of them would've ended up being pushed out.

"I like _you_, Sam," He declared, shaking off all possibility of this being reality. Surely she would wake up and find herself in her room, alone, cold, and empty like she always found herself.

"I'm sorry," was all she could say.

Freddie went to open his mouth, but Sam shook her head.

"I don't like talking," She said softly. "Can we stop talking? Let's just enjoy this."

She turned so her entire face was covered by Freddie's chest and she was plunged into total darkness. She could hear his heart as it kept it's even pace and felt the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. The Ferris Wheel lurched to a start again, and Sam felt herself drifting closer and closer to the ground, the absolute last place she ever wanted to be.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not sure if bespeckled is a word, because my word document is telling me it's not. But I like it and I'm going to use it. Sorry it's taking so long to upload something I've already written. I've had a lot going on. Thanks for reading.<strong>


	6. Fit for a King

**Chapter Six**

Freddie swore it was like pretending to be a spy.

At school, he and Sam pretended they didn't know each other at all. They didn't even glance at each other as they passed in the hallway. They weren't platonic friends; they weren't even acquaintances. At first glance, you wouldn't even know they ever knew each other.

But if you dug a little deeper…

Freddie walked down the hall with Missy, one hand in hers, the other in his pocket, sending a text message to Sam. He seemingly strolled down the hall without Missy, but if you watched closely, you could see as he slyly stuck a piece of paper in Sam's locker or in her hand when they passed each other.

If you didn't care, you wouldn't know.

Missy Robinson and Carly Shay did care, though. They were both frightful for different reasons: adultery and failure. Another slight strange movement and Missy would investigate. Another slight strange movement and the whole plan, all the effort, would be for nothing.

But Freddie Benson didn't care. He'd finally reached Sam—they were finally getting somewhere. Every sneaky maneuver, every silent glance, every memorable experience… He'd risk it all. He'd risk everything to keep this game up with Sam, to keep her close. He believed that every single dangerous move he had to make was worth it.

Sam, on the other hand, disagreed. She still wasn't sure how she felt about Freddie, though she'd never let him know that. Sometimes the way he looked at her when he thought she was distracted was unsettling. He acted like he liked her way more than he was supposed to.

He acted like he loved her.

It was a ridiculous idea. Preposterous, really. They were sixteen! _Love _was out of the question. Love was saved for growing up, facing fears, being _adults_. All of that scary stuff. And was it even possible to love a girl like her? She truly was a mess. Was she even capable of love?

Either way, Freddie continued to act as if she was. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she liked it or if it terrified her to no end. When she was lying in bed at night, phone clasped to her heart as she waited for his reply, she felt scared and uneasy. But on those rare occasions when he was in her bed with her, facing her, laughing at the stupid things she said, and using that look, she felt as if she loved him too.

They weren't on any level the same Sam and Freddie they used to be. She'd shattered that barrier that fateful Friday night when he'd come over unannounced and had bossily wiped away the blood on her cheek and demanded entrance to her house. It had been a hell of a Friday, one that she reckoned she'd never forget. He'd sat next to her on her bed for hours. Just talking and occasionally letting her kiss him. He let her get away with far too much that Friday night.

And now, another Friday night had rolled around.

They departed school in the mass exodus of their peers separately, but once he'd shaken Missy, they'd met up three blocks down the road to the right. She'd never forget that spot—she'd been so sure, for the first time in her life, that he was ditching her.

Again.

But he'd shown up, and together they had walked to the Groovy Smoothie.

That was where she sat now, rubbing her hands together over and over and feeling insanely nervous. He was buying her a smoothie—such chivalry—and she kept her hood fastened over her head like she always did. She didn't like when he was gone, but she didn't like when he was around either. She felt awful about it all the time and she didn't even know why. For heavens sake, she was _Sam Puckett_. Since when had she _ever _cared about other people?

Then again, the only people she'd ever felt any kind of compassion for before were Freddie and Carly.

Ouch. It hurt to think about Carly.

"One Blueberry Blitz," Freddie said happily, plopping down the smoothie in front of her. "It's still your favorite, right?"

"Yes," Sam said timidly, taking a healthy sip. With her free hand, she let her hair loose. It cascaded down her shoulders in filthy, pathetic excuses for curls.

"You okay?"

She hated when he asked her that.

"Yes," She repeated in between refreshing gulps. After a third go, she paused. "Just thinking."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Let's just enjoy this moment."

She continually found herself saying that to him, and she always found him nodding after she said it. Feeling very uncharacteristic of her fifteen year old self, Sam offered Freddie a sip of her smoothie. He smirked at her.

"You sure about that, Puckett?"

"Sure am, Benson."

She kept her hand clasped around the container and stretched it across the table. When her jacket sleeve slid up, Carly's charm bracelet glinted in the sudden light. It had been her last gift from Carly on their Friendiversary, and Sam hadn't taken it off since. Her stomach contorted painfully and she pulled her jacket sleeve down.

"Uh, Sam," Freddie said with a laugh. "You can drop your arm now."

"Shut up and take another sip," Sam said absentmindedly, grinning smugly at him. He shot her a skeptical look and slowly lowered his lips for a second swallow.

"FREDDIE BENSON," A shrill voice sounded from the doorway. Shocked, Freddie nearly choked on the straw as he looked up.

Missy came storming through the shop, carelessly pushing through the people in her way.

"There were rumors," She spat as she arrived at their table, "that you were cheating on me but I… I wouldn't… I couldn't…"

"Missy," Freddie said, shooting out of his seat. Sam took the opportunity to bring her arm back to its original resting place. "This isn't what you think."

"Oh, don't even _try_ that with me! I'm not stupid!" She practically shouted. Even T-Bo was watching now. They were causing a scene—Sam hated scenes. She slowly rose out of her chair and gave Missy a nervous look.

"Would you mind piping down?" She asked as politely as she could muster under Missy's threatening glare. "People are starting to watch."

"I don't care _who _watches!" She fumed, taking a step towards Sam at an attempt of being threatening. It was almost humorous, however, because Missy just so happened to be a few inches shorter than Sam—a feat most people rarely accomplished. However, attempting for once to keep herself out of trouble, Sam shut her mouth. Freddie grimaced and grabbed Missy's arm.

"Don't yell at her like that," He said softly, yet sternly.

And Sam knew that he'd just said the worst possible thing he could ever say.

"OH! OH _RIGHT! _DEFEND HER! God, Freddie! I can't BELIEVE you! And of _all the people _to cheat on me with, you pick the lowest of the low and the scummiest of the scum. I thought you had class."

"Now wait just a second," Sam said at the same time Freddie opened his mouth to defend her again. "I'm not just going to stand here and let you talk about me like that."

"Oh yeah? Fine. FINE! Is this better?"

Faster than a light is flicked on, Missy lunged forward, snatched the smoothie off of the table, popped the lid, and the let the remnants slide over Sam's head.

"MISSY!" Freddie shouted while some bystanders 'oohed' simultaneously. Sam wasn't really sure what was happening—the blueberry had slid over her eyes and was making its way down her cheeks.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," She heard T-Bo said.

"I'll get you some napkins, Sam, hold tight," Freddie said quickly.

"Okay," Sam murmured, feeling amazingly calm for the situation. She wasn't so much angry at Missy as she was irritated by the fact that, sooner or later, she was going to have to take a shower. And the fact that she was very, very cold.

Sam heard the door bell clang, announcing that Missy had finally left the building. Almost in the same moment, Freddie returned with napkins and feebly dabbing at Sam's face.

"Are you okay?" He asked nervously, rubbing her nose.

"Yes," Sam replied in the same even tone. "I'm fine."

"She's such a brat, I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I can't get this off. We're gonna have to go to my place and get you in a shower. Come on, before everyone starts bombarding you." He gave a last feeble swipe at her eyes, allowing the vision again, and swept her out by her hand. She didn't focus on the walk out—only on the fact that she was very cold. She'd never realized that smoothies had been so cold before. When they got in the elevator and he hit the wrong number, Sam felt her stomach drop to the basement.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, finally letting her anger seep through.

"My mother would have a hissy fit if I walked in with you looking like this."

"You _lied _to me?"

"I'm sorry, but would you have gone if I hadn't?"

The doors slid open and Sam let her eyes drift to the all familiar living room. Everything was there that she could see: the computer, the counter, the kitchen, the couch… Freddie dragged her further into the room.

"I get it," Carly was murmuring into her phone. She spun on her heel and acknowledged them both lightly. She wore the same purple jacket and dark skinny jeans from school. She and Sam locked eyes for a moment and said nothing, mostly for the fact that she was on her phone.

"No, Missy, I get it," Carly said again, racing across the room to her closet and pulling it open. "She was holding the smoothie out for him, I understand, please continue."

Sam and Freddie shared uneasy looks. Carly extracted a fluffy blue towel from the closet, moved back to Sam, and held it out to her.

"Use my bathroom," She said, holding her hand over the speaker. "You remember where it is, right?"

"How could I not?" Sam said softly. Before another word or knowing glance could be shared, Sam darted up the stairs, leaving Missy, Carly, and Freddie alone.

"Uh-huh," Carly was saying. "Feeding him the smoothie, I see."

All the while, she fixed Freddie with the most threatening look that Carly could muster, which, unsurprisingly, wasn't very threatening. He knew he would get it once Missy shut up, but for the moment, he was pretty content with the situation. Sam had barely put up a fight getting here, and Missy was out of his hair.

For now.

"Yeah, just text me when you're in the lobby and I'll ding you up," Carly agreed in a monotone voice. "And pick up coffee, would you? …Yes, I'll pay you back when you get here. Love you too."

She snapped her phone shut, shoved it in her pocket, and glared at Freddie determinedly.

"Hi," Freddie said happily.

"You messed everything up, Freddie," She said flatly. "I'm not happy. The whole plan is ruined. How are we supposed to save Sam now?"

"Carly, come off it," Freddie said, placing his hands behind his head. "Don't you see? We already '_saved_' Sam. She's upstairs in your bathroom taking a shower, is she not? I think my plan worked out a lot better than yours did."

"Well, what about Missy then? She's dead set on destroying you and Sam."

"So let her. I can handle Missy."

"But Sam—"

"I can handle her, too. Would you just relax? We've got this under control."

Carly let a sigh slide from between her lips and she plopped down on the couch next to Freddie.

"I just hope you're right."

"I am."

They were silent for a moment. Without warning, Carly wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her head in his shoulder. Blinking rapidly, Freddie wrapped his arms around her too and pulled her closer.

"I really did miss you, Freddie," She said almost inaudibly. "I don't think I ever got the chance to tell you that. Things fell apart when you weren't here, and in the month you're back, everything is already starting to make sense again. I never understood why, but you were always able to do that."

"He completed the trio," Sam Puckett—the real, sarcastic, normal toned, happy Sam Puckett—said from the top of the staircase. "The big dork," She added.

Carly and Freddie released each other from the embrace and turned around to look at her. She was taking a towel to her damp curls, and she'd changed into a pair of pajama pants—Carly's pajama pants. Feeling astonished at her sudden warmth to the pair of them and dumbfounded at her beautiful, clear face, Freddie just continued to stare. Carly stared too, and Sam came to a standstill in front of them.

"What?" She asked self consciously.

"Nothing," They both replied immediately. Sam smirked and gave a playful shrug, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"It's cool for me to borrow these, right Carls?"

And there it was.

All at once, the atmosphere switched from awkward to normal. In that moment, absolutely everything changed—but it wasn't unfamiliar territory. With that one nickname—that old familiar nickname—Sam had changed everybody's perspective of the interaction. This wasn't old friends slowly becoming friends again. This was old friends picking up exactly where they left off.

"Does it matter whether or not I approve?" Carly teased back. Sam beamed proudly.

"Nope," She said happily.

Happy. Sam was _genuinely happy_. Almost immediately, both girls started laughing, leaning towards each other over Freddie in that magnetic pull laughter had. _And they wouldn't stop_. The laughter just continued, on and on, as if they were sharing some private joke that Freddie didn't understand. But in the beauty of the moment, he started laughing too. After all, these were the girls—his girls—that had changed his life forever. These were his best friends, his very best friends, pretending as if there wasn't a care in the world. In the beauty of that moment, no tears were shed and no hugs were shared, but all was forgiven—absolutely everything was perfect again.

And then Carly's phone buzzed. She pulled it out, her laughter ceasing, and a frown taking the smile's position on her face.

"That's Missy," Carly said. "She's five minutes away."

Everyone sobered up instantly.

"I'll go home," Freddie said quickly. Sam kept her post, and Freddie shot up, taking one of her hands in his. Sam stared past him for a moment before she finally focused on him. She smirked and squeezed the hand he was holding.

"Don't miss me," She said routinely.

"I won't," He answered, leaning forward and pecking her quickly on the lips. He spun on his heel, clasped a hand on Carly's shoulder, and disappeared out the door. The girls sat still, and in Carly's case, in stunned silence.

"Don't ask," Sam said simply, waving it off. "Where do I hide?"

"Spencer's closet," Carly said immediately. Just as Sam was sliding the closet closed, she heard the distinct ding that signified Lewbert was contacting her, requesting a visitor's permission to enter.

If it was Lewbert who still worked the front desk anymore. Sam was sad to realize she had no idea.

"Carly," Sam heard Missy cry.

And yes, she was _actually _crying. This couldn't get any more dramatic in Sam's opinion.

"Oh, Mis," Carly complained, and Sam could only assume she was hugging her. Carly. She was always so nice. "It's going to be okay."

"I thought he really—really liked—liked me," Missy stammered in between hiccups. "But obviously not if he had time to be with—with her."

"_Her _name is Sam," Carly said defensively. Sam felt her chest fill with pride.

"Whatever! I hated her then, and I hate her now. She _stole _my boyfriend, Carly. Did they have anything? Sam and Freddie? Back when you guys, you know, were kind of friends?"

"I don't think they wanted to admit anything, but I always suspected…"

Sam's veins nearly turned to ice. How had she known…?

"Carly, this is awful!" Missy whined again. "I lost Freddie! He was really the only boy who understood me, I think. I think I loved him, Carly. I really do."

"You say that about every boy you date."

"This was different! Freddie was…different."

"You mean his arms were bigger and he had a rock-hard chest?"

"That too!"

"Missy, I think you need to calm down—"

"NO! I DON'T WANT TO CALM DOWN! I'M UPSET, CARLY! Why are you defending her? You guys aren't even friends anymore. And you shouldn't be friends with Freddie, either. He's mean, Carly. He broke my heart…"

"Missy, you guys were dating for two weeks…"

"I DON'T CARE! UGH! NOBODY UNDERSTANDS ME!"

"Missy—"

"I'M LEAVING! AND DON'T EVEN _TRY _TO STOP ME!"

There was silence followed by a loud door being slammed shut as Missy huffily stormed out in a way only a drama queen could accomplish. Laughing, Sam emerged from her hide-a-away and joined Carly in the living room.

"Okay, that was hysterical—"

"I know right? She's so ridiculous," Carly agreed.

They looked at each other and snorted a few times.

"'He broke my heart,'" Carly mocked.

"'NOBODY UNDERSTANDS ME!'" Sam added, and then they both broke into hysterics. Sam was gasping for air by the time the door reopened and Missy entered again.

"Carly, I want my lip—"

Silence fell like a shadow.

"Oh my god," Missy shouted. "OH MY GOD!"

"Missy—" Carly said. "Missy, wait."

"YOU TRAITOR! YOU BACKSTABBER! OH MY _GOD_!"

"Missy, come on, it's not—"

"I hate you! You're going to regret this, Carly! YOU ARE GOING TO REGRET THIS!"

"Missy! Missy, stop, come on!"

And the door slammed shut again, leaving Carly calling after it.

"Come on, Missy! Missy! UGH!" Carly shouted, kicking the door. "This sucks! Oh my _god _what a day."

"Why do you care so much?" Sam whispered, resuming her standing position and staying almost silent. Carly frowned and turned around to look at her.

"She could destroy us," Carly murmured.

"Who cares?"

"You…you don't care?"

"Heck no I don't. I have you and I have Freddie. Who cares what she says about me? Who cares what she tells a few kids about us? I mean, Carls, its high school. It's stupid. Rumors are stupid, and things… things have been worse. Carly, we can handle Missy. We can take it."

Carly could've sworn Sam had been listening in on their conversation ten minutes earlier. Suddenly, Sam and Carly shared a knowing look. Slowly, their minds started working in the same way.

"Sounds like we have an army," Carly mused, a smirk lighting up her face.

"Fit for a king," Sam agreed.


	7. Golden

**Chapter Seven**

It was five minutes to seven on a windy and rainy Saturday night. Sam sat without emotion, without talking, and without movement. Freddie was watching her timidly from the other side of the room.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked nervously. If she had heard him, she didn't show it. Freddie wrung his hands together and looked at his watch. Two minutes to seven.

"Got it!" Carly said happily, striding through the door with the remote clasped in her hand. "You ready to go?"

"Absolutely," Sam said easily, sliding out of the immobile car and striding to the center of the room. Carly met her there, gave her an encouraging smile, and handed her the blue remote. Sam smiled back as best she could and fixed her shirt, wondering about the last time she'd worn a penny tee.

"Thirty seconds," Freddie said, aiming the camera at them. Sam felt the adrenaline rush through her at the old wake-up call.

"Let's shake it, baby," Sam said routinely, and the two of them shook it out. Shook out all the uncertainty, nervousness, and doubt. They were the dynamic duo—they could do anything they set their minds to.

"In five," Freddie said proudly, his chest swelling and his mouth spreading into a grin. "Four, three, two…"

"I'm Carly!"

"And I'm Sam!"

"WELCOME TO ICARLY!"

Although Freddie had only filmed four iCarly's since he'd gotten back, this one was without a doubt the best one so far. It went off without a single hitch. The girls shared the screen time, quite opposite all the times Missy had taken center stage and left Carly in the dark. Every joke was sure to make someone laugh. Every reaction was priceless. The bit with Gibby was absolutely hilarious.

But he thought the best part of it all was watching Sam. She looked _so _happy there, laughing with Carly and spitting playful jabs at Freddie. She was sarcastic and lively. Every moment she spent in front of the camera sent her spiraling closer and closer to her old self, and by the time that Freddie called, "And we are clear," Sam Puckett was back. She hugged Carly, smiling more than Freddie had seen since he'd returned. When he went to hug her, she drew back.

"I don't want to catch your dorky germs," She said bitterly, shooting him a look. Freddie smirked and pulled back, shrugging his shoulders.

"Freddie, what's that noise coming from your computer?" Carly asked suspiciously, resting a hand on his arm while the other pointed. The trio was quiet for a second and they could all hear the constant dinging emitting from the laptop. Freddie frowned and walked to his computer. After a second of clicking, a huge grin took the place of the unhappy look and he gazed at the girls.

"It's the comments," He said. "Everybody's buzzing."

"Why?" Sam asked naively.

Carly laughed like she thought Sam was kidding.

"I'm going to make some popcorn. You guys want some soda?" She asked politely, glancing at the two of them.

"Sure," Freddie replied. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

"I'll get the bean bags," Sam said immediately, spinning around and walking towards the back room. Freddie and Carly watched her go for a moment before they gave each other a knowing look.

"Thank you," They whispered simultaneously. They didn't laugh at the coincidence—in some strange way, Freddie and Carly had always been on the same brain wave as the other. Carly gave a parting smile and disappeared down the stairs.

"Hey," Sam said not even a moment later, arms full of the colorful bean bags. "Help me, would you?" Freddie didn't hesitate as he left his post and took responsibility of all three make-shift chairs. He set them out in their usual arrangement and turned around to go back to his tech cart.

Sam stood in his way, only a mere twelve inches from his face. She smiled lightly, stepped forward, and kissed him softly.

"Thanks," She said after she'd pulled away. She crossed her arms over her chest, almost challenging him to say something. He noticed it then—the sparkle in her eyes at competition, especially between the two of them.

There were a lot of things that we're different, but there were even more that would never change.

x

On Monday morning, Freddie wasn't going to even try to hide it—he was nervous. None of them had heard from Missy all weekend, and they didn't want to think about her anger, either. Freddie, Carly, and Sam had walked to school together—something they rarely used to do in the old days, but something that would most certainly become routine now. When the school was in sight, Carly grabbed Sam's hand.

"We can do this," She muttered for what felt like the hundredth time that morning.

"We get it, Carly," Sam said coolly, seemingly unimpressed by the threat Carly was so sure Missy had on them.

"What if she put up flyers?" Carly worried, gripping tighter to Sam's hand.

"Carls—"

"I'm serious! What if she put up flyers saying 'Don't watch iCarly' or 'Carly Shay is a loser.' Sam, I don't want to be called a loser!"

"Calm down, Carly," Freddie said fairly. "I'm sure we won't have trouble with Missy."

"How can you be sure?"

"I can't be, but even if there is a problem, we can handle it. Aren't we all in this together?"

"Yes," Sam agreed eagerly, all too willing to get Carly to stop dreaming up worst-case scenarios. "We'll be fine. We have each other. What do the other kids matter? Who wants to be surrounded by a bunch of people who don't even really care about you? I have you two. I'm good."

Freddie smiled and felt a little twinge of pride in his chest. All along they'd been so worried that she'd take this harshly, and all along they'd been wrong.

They were outside of the school now, and Carly wasn't making a peep. Freddie wondered if it was Sam's pep talk that shut her up, or if she was too afraid to even make noise. He felt a smidge nervous that things would be thrown at them, but this was high school they were talking about—this wasn't a big deal.

Sam wrenched the door open proudly, completely confident that her day would go well.

Freddie wasn't sure if it was the confidence that caused it or not, but shortly after they opened the door, a kid from on top of the stairs called out,

"Welcome back, _iCarly_!"

"Thanks, kid!" Sam called back proudly, still gliding through the school like she owned the place. She still kept tight to Carly's hand. The deeper than ventured into the depths of the school, the more at ease they became. Kids everywhere were smiling at them—smiling at Sam—and one even stopped to hug her. She didn't take to this as well as she did the smiles—Sam, new and old, was never one for hugs, especially from random students that had never spoken to her before. The girl ran away timidly, and Freddie faintly wondered if it had been a dare.

"See?" Sam said smugly. "No problems. No worries. We're golden!"

Though Freddie didn't feel like he was shimmering a deep yellow color, he did feel a peculiar warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was there.

Sam and Carly stopped at each individual locker and Freddie didn't bother going to his. He watched as Carly and Sam made faces at each other and laughed about the pointless things they said. He'd seen them do the exact same things a thousand times before, but it seemed different now—it seemed sacred.

And that, that moment right there, was when Missy decided to arrive. Freddie had forgotten that she had the locker in between Carly and Sam's.

She wore what she always wore—skimpy clothes. Today's outfit consisted of a tight flowered shirt, a black skirt that was hardly acceptable for dress code, ridiculously high red heels, a pear phone in one hand, and a tall cup of coffee in the other.

"Oh," She said lamely, looking up from her phone as if she'd been reading a message. "Didn't realize _you _would be here."

Carly and Sam remained quiet, and Freddie was currently doing his absolute best to become a chameleon and disappear into the wall. Missy said nothing more, strode forward in her extremely-painful looking shoes, and twisted her lock. Freddie watched nervously as she meticulously gathered her books, slammed the door shut with a sharp bang, and turned towards a group of upperclassmen. Once she was out of hearing range, Carly let out the breath she'd been holding.

"Oh," She squeaked on the exhale.

"Could've been worse," Sam said immediately, the confident look taking its place in her eyes again. "Carls, it could've been _a lot _worse."

"That wasn't even bad," Freddie conceded, surprised by the fact that Missy had been so passive with them. Passive aggressive, more likely, but Freddie honestly didn't care what she would say about them behind their backs. As long as Sam wasn't tearing her throat out and Carly wasn't crying, he was fine.

"She behaved just like I would've if this weekend had never happened," Sam said softly. She didn't have to say anymore. Carly and Freddie knew she was right—and that reality scared them.

"It's funny, huh?" Sam continued, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as the bell rang, rudely announcing that they had ten minutes to get to class. Not many people in the hallway moved. "It changes so quickly, who you're friends with. One weekend and Missy and I have switched roles. Well, not quite. The jocks are still giving me dirty looks and she's still talking to the popular kids, but I have you guys now."

"You always had us," Freddie said. Probably more a lie than a truth. After all, Carly hadn't been talking to Sam for the past six months and he'd been away on an oh-so-wonderful cruise. Still, Sam smiled and gazed around the hall.

"It's just funny."

"Sam," Carly blurted, looking very frantic. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've never ignored you. I should've believed you—I should've—"

"Carly, it's the past," Sam said, sounding oddly Zen for her. "There's nothing we can do now but live in the present. And in the present, we have to go to class."

Freddie was hoping that Carly was just as flummoxed as he was. The words 'have to go to class' didn't come out of Sam's mouth unless she was planning on torturing a substitute teacher. Nevertheless, Carly hugged them both and turned towards her classroom in the opposite direction. Sam watched her go before she turned to Freddie and crossed her arms over her chest.

"To History," She said in a sarcastic happy tone, her face decorated with a grimace. "I'm so excited."

Freddie didn't know what it was, but he took the risk and kissed her. Just a peck because she pulled away almost instantly, but she wasn't protesting. When he smiled at her, she smiled back just a tad warily.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you," She said as they made the slow trek to class and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They were still thin, but judging on the fact that she went through three bowls of popcorn alone at Carly's Saturday night, that was definitely going to change.

"Let me have my way?" He suggested playfully.

"Aw, Freddie," She said sweetly, pausing just outside the door to grab his hand as he was returning it to his side. "Let you win? It's like you don't know me at all."

That didn't stop her from twining her fingers with his as she opened the door and allowed him to walk her to her seat while the exhausted faces of their peers turned into masks of confusion.


	8. By All Means

**Chapter Eight**

During the aftermath of everything, they realized that it was probably foolish to believe that Missy was just going to act like the whole thing was perfectly okay and she was happy with the fact that she had been dumped and betrayed by her "best friend" all in one day. She had meant what she said: Carly would regret her actions. Missy, as it turns out, was not going down without a fight.

Backtracking a bit, we'll start with Sam on Friday afternoon on the one-week anniversary of Missy's anger explosion that never really followed through. Sam was in the middle of receiving compliments from an overly excited fan who was over the moon on her return to _iCarly_. Sam, who was quickly losing patience with the conversation, was interrupted in her nasty remarks by Freddie Benson. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and placed a kiss on her head. Sam whirled around and stared at him.

"Public display of affection much?" She said, raising an amused eyebrow. In all honesty, she was starting to get a little squeamish about all the affection. The little notes. The hand holding. The unexpected kisses. It felt very official to her, and she still wasn't even one hundred percent positive she liked Freddie that much. The lines between using him as a crutch and using him as a lover were blurred, and she wasn't comfortable. Not at all.

"We could make it a _private _display of affection if that would suit you better," He said suggestively, and Sam felt that last fragile strand of will power snap all too easily in his strong hands.

"Okay." Her own voice sounded so weak to her, so disconnected from the rest of her body. Was it weird that when she was spiraling out of control, all alone, and completely hopeless, that she was more aware of herself than she was now? Freddie was too much for her—that much she knew for sure. Whether she wanted to accept the challenge or not though was a different story.

She didn't talk as he led her to her own house. Was she the only person that found that strange? When had she become so submissive?

"Freddie," She squeaked as he pounded up the front steps, one hand resting on the door handle. He turned in his tracks to face her.

"Yes, Sam?"

And there it was—that trusting, loving face that she'd grown to know. His eyes glowed at the sight of her, his smile intensified; he gained a bounce in his step. He was happy—he liked being with her.

How had they gotten here?

"Um, are you going to make food?"

She changed her real question at the last second. Freddie laughed and opened the door.

"Don't I always?" He said amicably as he bounded into the kitchen. And he looked cheerful—he didn't care that he had to wait on her, or deal with her issues, or meet her demands.

What did that mean?

"Earth to Sam, grilled cheese or macaroni?" He asked laughing.

Laughing, why was he _always _laughing?

"Skip it," She murmured breathlessly, latching on to his hand and dragging him to her in one simple movement. She cupped his ear with her other hand, moved it up along the back of his neck, dug it's way into his hair and latched on there like a leech. She kissed him as hard as she could, not worrying about whether or not she was being too rough. It was the only way to block out her insecurities. To block out the unsure thoughts.

She pulled away. She let go of his hand. She let go of his hair. She stared at the floor. And for once, she prayed he'd ask her what was wrong. She begged and pleaded and hoped that he was going to know automatically—that he wasn't going to be angry when he found out or upset if she cried, which she immediately felt like doing.

"Should we go to your room?"

Sam took a shallow, shuddering breath, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and crossed her arms.

"Sure," She whispered, trying to recover. "Let me just go to the bathroom. I'll meet you there."

He edged his way along the island, and she followed a good five paces behind. He turned into her bedroom and shot her a smile before she lost his sight.

She didn't return it.

Instead, she opened the bathroom door, flicked the light on slowly, and forced herself to look in the mirror.

She saw the glow, saw the spark in her eye, the gleam of her hair, the pink of her cheeks, but she felt none of it. Never, not even in the past six months, had she ever felt so lost and unsure.

But she was sure of one thing: there was a boy, a boy who liked her very much, sitting in the other room. A boy who, unlike her, was not damaged. Who still had feelings. Who still had emotions. Who felt joy, happiness, and love instead of just immediate gratification.

Who also felt pain.

Freddie, unlike herself, was not using her so he wouldn't feel lonely. He genuinely cared about her, wanted her to feel safe and happy and loved, and was doing everything he could to make her feel just a glimpse of that.

She guessed that in some moments, she did feel exactly that.

And that was why she toyed with her hair a bit, brushed her teeth, wrenched open the cabinet and put on some lipstick that her mother kept in there. He deserved better after everything he had done for her. She was in a rush for some eyeliner, gave up after a moment of searching, and slowly opened the bathroom door. She tucked her hair behind her ears, thought better of it, flipped her hair once, and walked into the bedroom.

He was standing on the bed and staring at the pictures on her wall. She'd finally replaced the glass of the picture that she'd drawn an X over while Freddie had been visiting the week before. He smiled the whole time, telling her stupid, sweet little nothings while he watched.

"Hi," She squeaked, and he turned around to look at her.

"Hello," He said smoothly, hopping off the bed and moving towards her in one simple movement. He placed both strong hands on her lower back and gazed into her big blue eyes. She looked back with as much interest as she could muster into his brown ones. He smirked a bit and raised the back of his hand to her lips, wiping the lipstick away so it stained his skin.

"There," he said softly, "is perfection."

"Far from it," She corrected, but he wasn't paying attention. He kissed her once, twice, three times and she kissed him back and she wanted to. There were no false movements that she made, and there were no false movements from him. And just as they were lying on her bed and she was smiling at him and he was telling her a stupid story, his phone rang and they both stopped moving. His smile disappeared for a moment and he reached into his pocket.

"Just Carly," He breathed, sounding relieved with the situation. "This'll only take a minute."

Was it normal for Sam to feel annoyed? She flopped onto her back and stared at the ceiling while crossing her arms over her chest.

These were the moments when she didn't know what was wrong with her. When she was with him, holding him against her, and listening to the soft rumble of his voice, there was no confliction. She was happy—honestly, truly, really, genuinely happy—but when they were around others, or not together at all, she wanted to escape. To run, and to never look back.

She felt sure of herself when she was a loser, because she knew there was no other way for her to feel. She realized that now. But with Carly back in her life, and Freddie as her boyfriend (did she really just think of him like that?), she wasn't sure how to feel anymore. This was unfamiliar territory for her life in the moment, but it wasn't new territory. She'd been here before, for the most part—_iCarly_ shows, being friends with Carly, kissing Freddie—but it didn't feel right. Not anymore. It felt rushed—like too many things were being left unsaid.

"Don't bother calling Sam; I'm with her right now." Sam was interested when she heard her name coming from Freddie's mouth, sounding rushed and nervous. "What? Oh, um… We were just… er… studying…" Freddie's face flushed, and Sam couldn't help but smile as she turned on her side and fluttered her eyes at him. He glanced at her, but when he didn't smirk in return, she couldn't understand why.

"We'll be right over," Freddie said quickly, sounding very bothered and looking very scared. Sam only felt a tad of anger that her time with him was being cut short and she'd so soon have to return to her uncomfortable state. "Don't worry, Carly, we'll be right over. Don't cry. Just call the police, we'll be there soon."

Okay, so this was serious then. Sam rolled off the bed and was on her feet in front of Freddie in seconds.

"What is it? What is it?" She asked over and over, bouncing back and forth nervously. He kept signaling her to "shh", and she was getting frustrated. Carly was her friend too, she deserved to know why she was calling the cops.

Finally—finally—he hung up and looked at her very seriously.

"Missy," He barely exhaled.

He didn't have to say anything else—she was out the door.

x

It was trashed. Everything was ruined. There would be no repairs—the room was beyond fixing. It was gone, everything was destroyed.

Floor boards had been ripped up. The lights, even on their traffic light, had all been smashed in. Stuffed animals were covered in graffiti. Their television was smashed, cracked, and broken, lying on the floor where it had fallen in defeat to a hammer that Missy had most definitely been wielding. The prop car in the corner had been smashed in with probably the same hammer, and the seats were bleeding plush, as she had taken a knife to them as well.

But perhaps the worst of the worst was all of Freddie's equipment, lying on the floor, stomped and ripped apart beyond repair. Every lens split into a million pieces, every piece of his camera torn apart.

This had been personal.

The cops had left, declaring that they had no physical evidence of who had done it, and Lewbert said he never let anybody up here.

But Missy had a key, and she didn't need to talk to anybody. She'd planned it so she wouldn't have to. Even the video cameras in the front lobby had been conveniently covered for her easy escape.

Sam stood in the doorway—where purple paint had been smeared over the _iCarly_ logo—and didn't say a word. There was nothing _to _say. Carly was in a crumpled heap on Spencer's lap, bawling into his shoulder on the few steps that hadn't been torn up. Freddie sat in midst of his equipment, two pieces in his hand that he had been trying to fit together. He'd given up half way though and merely sat there staring into oblivion.

"I knew this was a terrible idea," Sam said softly, staring around at the massacre that was their studio. "You should have never gotten involved with me again. It would only cause trouble."

"What caused the real trouble was me agreeing to date her," Freddie said lamely, sounding very distant and troubled, almost as if he'd shut himself down from all emotion so he wouldn't react to his cameras. The cameras that he'd spent plenty of money on to purchase now rendered useless at his feet.

"I should never have come up with that idea," Carly protested, blubbering against her tears. "It's my fault."

"You wouldn't have had to come up with that if I were still friends with you," Sam argued back.

"You would still be friends with her if I hadn't gone on that school at sea trip."

"But I'm the one who told you to sign up for—"

"ENOUGH!" Spencer shouted, pulling Carly out of his lap and standing up. "Look at you! You're reacting exactly like she wanted you to. You're blaming each other and _fighting_. She wants to turn you against each other and she's going to do everything in her power to get her way."

"So you're saying we should give up," Carly decided, falling back on the steps. She was particularly distraught, more than the other two. _iCarly _had always been the one thing she gave more effort to than school, and now she had nothing.

"That's not what I'm saying at all," Spencer said bitterly. "I'm saying you _fight back_."

"With what? She destroyed our studio, there's no way to fix it," Freddie argued. "And my equipment is completely…" He trailed off, and everyone winced as they glanced at it again. So much money, so much effort, wasted.

"_With what_? Come on, you guys! You're _iCarly_! The triple threat. There's nothing that can stop you."

"Except our studio getting wrecked," Carly added miserably.

"Nope! Not even that! Look, you have all those ads on that you get money from people to sponsor, right? So just dip into that fund to pay for the repairs to the studio! You're the most popular web show on the net; you must have some serious cash in that account!"

"But we were saving it," Freddie murmured. "To send Carly and I to college."

"And bail me out of jail," Sam said softly, banging her heel against the door jamb.

"Right, okay. But you'll make more money from them, but not if you don't fix the studio. You fix the studio with that money, you keep the show going, and you get the money back. You keep the studio ruined like this, and you'll be miserable, and that money will dwindle away. Trust me! It's a good idea! You can do it! I'll help, too. I have some construction friends. Socko has a cousin who's a contractor. We can rebuild your studio, pay for Freddie's tech stuff, and get _iCarly _up and running again."

"Yeah, but what if Missy comes in and breaks everything again?" Sam countered, shooting Spencer a look. Spencer shook his head.

"Won't happen. I'm going to install alarm systems. Lewbert's paying for them to make up for insurance costs. Missy won't get in here again."

"But she's still going to go after us," Carly said, but there was a twinge of hope in her voice. Sam had to admit it; she was starting to feel a bit better too. Freddie was on his feet. Spencer had a point—this _might _work.

"Then there's only one thing you can do about that," Spencer said softly, giving each of them a meaningful look. "Stay strong. Don't let her break you. You're best friends. You all love each other. There's nothing she can do to break that, no matter how hard she tries. And she _will _try. Just make sure she doesn't win."

Sam was edging her way closer to Spencer now, feeling her spirits rise—maybe this was a good thing after all. They were bonding; they were going to stand strong. There was nothing Missy could do to them if they held together.

"But what if she keeps fighting?" Freddie asked, but his voice wasn't even hinted with melancholy anymore—he was excited too.

"Then by all means," Spencer whispered, smirking at the three of them who had absent mindedly drawn around him, forming like the ultimate trio they had been, and always were going to be. "Fight back."

And those two words rang clear as a bell throughout the room.

Those two words were Spencer's best advice yet.


	9. Putting Things Back Together

**Chapter Nine**

"You know what? I think you're both seriously overlooking my gonorrhea idea."

The groans around Carly Shay's room were unappreciative and loud in Sam Puckett's ears, even though it was only the two of them showing their displeasure. Sam had been pacing vigorously for the past hour across Carly's floor while she sat on her bed and Freddie had captured a spot on the bench underneath the window. They both looked annoyed with her, but Sam had downed four Peppy Colas in the time they'd been in there, and it was too hard to sit still anymore.

"We're not going around saying that Missy has gonorrhea," Carly said patiently for what felt like the hundredth time. Sam didn't stop her pacing while she fixed Carly with a disgruntled look. As soon as she opened her mouth to whine, Carly cut in again.

"I know it's more believable than saying she has herpes, because it's 'less popular and more stupid people will be confused about it' but I don't think I would feel right spreading around the Missy has an STD. That could ruin her life forever."

"But it's so believable!" Sam whined while Freddie rested his head in his hands. "With all the guys she gets with… Freddie! Back me up," Sam demanded. When Sam had first come up with the idea, Freddie had been so pissed that he'd agreed with her, but by the third time she'd tried to convince Carly, Freddie was silent.

"I agree with Carly. That would ruin her life. Plus—" he raised his voice as he noticed Sam getting ready to butt in "—she might turn it around and say that she got it from me, and I got it from you because I was cheating on her with you. Then we'd be in more trouble than Missy because she would get sympathy, and quite frankly, I'm not dying a virgin."

"Not the time to talk about this!" Carly shouted, covering her ears childishly. Sam shot her a smirk and vowed silently to rest her case. The last thing she needed was it getting around that she gave Freddie Benson gonorrhea. She gave up on her pacing and moved over to Freddie, taking a seat in his lap. His arms immediately curled around her, and in that moment, she appreciated it.

"What do you think we should do, Carls?" Sam asked even though Carly had already contributed and Sam had hated the idea.

"Ignore it," Carly told her again. "I'm telling you, it's the only thing I can think of that would be good. If we pretend like nothing ever happened, it might just make Missy angrier. I feel like if we strike back, she'd be getting what she wanted. If we just make an announcement to _iCarly_ fans about renovations to the studio and completely ignore her at school, or maybe even be nice to her, we would get her back a lot better than if we did something drastic."

"Reverse psychology," Freddie said, his chest rumbling against Sam's body. She shivered involuntarily and Freddie squeezed her tighter. Sam let it sink in for a little bit, trying to fight against the frantic buzzing the caffeine was doing to her brain. She was suddenly up again, pacing in front of Carly's bed. Freddie let her go without hesitation.

"I don't think I can just _do nothing_, Carls! I might go insane. I'm so mad at this chick. She has screwed me over so many times. Please let me do something to her."

"Sam, I just don't think it's a good idea," Carly murmured. She got up off her bed and met Sam on the floor, standing in front of her and instantly stopping her pacing. "Attacking Missy physically could get you in trouble with the law, and besides, I feel like she's waiting for an attack. Remember when she told me I would regret everything I did that day and then we waited around wondering what she was going to do to us and she let us wait? I think that's what we should do to her."

"Except not doing anything to her in the long run," Sam said angrily.

"That's not necessarily true. If we're nice to her, act as if nothing happened, it might drive her insane and therefore we're affecting her anyways."

"But not physically hurting her or something she loves like she did to us," Sam clarified and Carly shot her a timid smile, confirming her suspicions. Sam's eyes tightened and she waited impatiently to hear Plan B. She knew Carly, and Carly _always _had a Plan B. Almost as if she had been reading her thoughts, Carly opened her mouth to speak again.

"Unless," She said quickly and Sam smiled at the possibilities. "She strikes again. If she does something to us again… I give you full permission, Sam, to do whatever you think is necessary. Within reason."

"Within reason?" Sam complained, feeling her sails deflate. "Carls—"

"Well, Sam, I can't really justify having you send a pack of tigers on her or something! We don't want to hurt her too badly."

"But we can hurt her, right?" Sam said eagerly, leaning forward. Carly bit her bottom lip and Sam shot a quick look at Freddie, indicating that he should jump in before she took it all back.

"Uh, I would say so, if she hurts us twice we have, ya know, jeopardy or something," He determined, rising from his seat. "All's fair in love and war, I guess."

"Dork," Sam spat idly while she watched Carly.

"Fine, fine," Carly agreed. "Within reason."

"Question!" Sam declared, raising her hand in the air. "Is a shirtless Gibby within reason?"

"I would say so," Freddie barged in. Carly didn't get a chance to answer before Sam beamed mischievously, turned for the door, and entered the hallway.

"We have to wait for her to strike again, Sam!" Carly called after her.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam answered before she took off down the stairs. When she heard the footsteps behind her, she was certain it wasn't Carly. Feeling too lazy to walk down more stairs, she hit the elevator button and let Freddie catch up to her.

"So, it's only like seven o clock. Wanna catch a movie or something?" Sam waited for the doors to close before she sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"No, I want to go home."

"Alright, that works for me."

"No, I want to be alone. It's nothing personal, Freddie. I just… I need to do something." Sam wasn't sure what had come over her, but she suddenly felt sure about it. She did need to do something. Tie up loose ends. Fix past mistakes. The elevator opened in the lobby and Freddie stepped out with her. She was almost afraid that he still intended to go with her, but Freddie was and always would be a good guy.

"Alrighty then. No hard feelings. Do you want me to call you a cab or something? It looks like a storm's brewing out there." Sam turned around and saw it then, the threatening sky. Dark clouds were spilling into it and joining together rapidly, and the trees bended dangerously back and forth.

"I'll be okay," Sam said softly. This was her favorite kind of weather. Before she knew it, Freddie was wrapping his jacket around her shoulders. She stared at the fabric for a bit, puzzled, while Freddie kissed her cheek.

"Promise me you'll call a cab if it starts to rain," He said softly into her ear. He pulled away and she looked up into his open, smiling face.

"You're a good guy, Freddie," She said. She turned around then, not bothering to listen for a reply and taking the dark, deserted streets of Seattle into her own hands. It was colder than she expected, and she silently thanked Freddie for the jacket. He really was a good guy, always looking out for others and helping people who needed him. It was mysterious, really, to be as good a person as Freddie Benson was and to be with her. Sam Puckett. Not good. Juvenile Delinquent. Trouble maker. It was strange that she'd found herself with Carly and Freddie.

When the rain started, she didn't call a cab like Freddie had suggested, and that just kept up with her reputation. She walked a little faster and was home quickly, throwing Freddie's hood off of her and moving swiftly for her room where she'd left her cell phone. The number came to memory, and it rang three times before an answer.

"Sammy?" The voice asked on the other end. Sam swallowed hard and gripped the phone tighter.

"Hey, Mom."

x

When Monday rolled around, there was no sign of Sam. Freddie waited in agony all through their History class, expecting her to barge through the door at any minute and ignore the teacher's demands for a late slip, but she never showed. When he went to speak with Carly, she saw her standing awkwardly side-by-side with Missy as they both went to their lockers, never speaking. Too preoccupied to care, Freddie started right in on his troubles.

"Hey Carly? Have you heard from Sam?"

Missy bristled a bit and Freddie swore he saw a flicker of a smile on her face before she slammed her locker shut and turned around.

"Yeah, is she okay? I noticed she wasn't there when you guys announced the renovations to the studio on Saturday night," She said icily, watching them both carefully. Freddie didn't dare to even glance at her once, keeping his eyes trained on Carly. She, however, smiled like this was nothing to worry about.

"Yeah, she had to stay home and catch up on some homework. No need for both of us to be there to make an announcement." It came from her so easily, the lie. If Freddie hadn't known that Sam didn't do homework, he probably would've believed her. Missy's face lost its composure for a second.

"What kind of renovations are you guys doing anyway?" She asked quietly, daring them to say something. A challenge. Everyone knew perfectly well what Missy had done, but Carly seemed determined to make it seem like it was all imaginary.

"Well, we finally decided to dip into our savings and upgrade a lot of our stuff. Like, Freddie's getting this brand-new tech kit, it's going to be so awesome, right Freddie?"

_This is so freaking nuts, _Freddie thought bitterly before responding, "Yeah, totally cool. Carly, can I talk to you?" Without waiting for her answer, Freddie dragged Carly away while Missy stomped off to be with her older friends.

"Freddie, what the heck? We were doing really well there."

"Carly, have you heard from Sam? She's not here today."

Carly finally—finally—started to look concerned.

"No… Maybe she was just skipping first period. Have you tried texting her?"

"No I wanted to talk to you first."

"Okay, well I'll text her. I'm sure she's fine. Just overslept or something. Let's just get to class. I'm sure Sam is fine."

Tuesday rolled around, followed by a rainy Wednesday, and then that was followed by an even darker Thursday. By Friday, Freddie was beginning to panic. Sam's phone was on, but she wasn't answering. He resolved to stop by her house on the way home from school today. When Freddie was leaving his first period on Friday morning, the teacher called out to him.

"I have Samantha's makeup work. I was told that you would be giving it to her?" He asked brusquely, pushing a folder with paper inside towards him. Freddie's face crumpled in confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"The make-up work that Samantha requested. She has been excused this week for a family emergency, and called Monday morning asking all of her teachers to get her work together for the week and give it to you on Friday—my dear boy, you were informed of this, weren't you?"

The only real words Freddie had been able to take away from the explanation were 'family emergency.' His heart flew off nervously at the possibilities that that statement always brought to kids. Accident. Injury. Death. The list went on and on.

"—They heard from Sam?" Freddie interrupted. He hadn't been paying attention to his teacher anyways and they both knew it. His teacher's glasses slid down his nose and he fixed Freddie with a peculiar look.

"I didn't, not personally. But yes, she contacted the school board. Have you not heard from her, Mr. Benson?"

"No," Freddie said honestly, pulling the stack of papers into his hand. "No, I haven't heard from her."

"Didn't you find it curious that she wasn't in school?"

"It's not like I intentionally _tried _not to hear from her. I've called her like a thousand times and—"

"I suggest you try again. She'll know you have my work now. Go on, though. You'll be late for your next class."

x

Even after the phone call, it had taken Sam until Sunday to go. She sat in the house with the doors locked, lights off, and blinds drawn for hours on end. She'd spent almost two days doing her least favorite thing—thinking. She wrote everything down first and then when she figured she'd found a reasonable way to fix it, she crossed it off and wrote the solution on a separate sheet of paper. Just a few words, usually, but it was enough. This was how she was getting her life back together.

And early Sunday morning, when she crossed off the last thing on her list, she raised the solution one so the slight ray of light shining in from the moon illuminated it.

**-One week.**

**-Call. Don't miss another day.**

**-Just like old times.**

**-Good behavior. Community service. Good grades.**

**-Listen to Carly.**

**-Listen to your heart.**

It wasn't by any means impressive, but it helped her. It reminded her of the plans she'd made in the past couple of days, and kept her in routine to stick with it. She smiled, placing the list on her nightstand and crawling under her covers. Just as her eyes were closing and her breathing was slowing and unconsciousness was beginning to take over, she began to miss Freddie.

It wasn't a particularly restful evening, but she was up the next morning bright and early. The first thing she did was take her resolution note in her hand, fully intending on keeping it with her for guidance. She didn't waste any time getting ready. It was cold and the day looked like it was promising sunshine this far. She started off down her street, stopping only to get coffee. She didn't hesitate to walk through the sliding glass doors. Once inside the heat, she took out her phone and did what she promised herself she would do: she called the school. She informed them of the situation and, amazingly, they believed her. Maybe it was her demand for her schoolwork to be collected, but the secretary agreed immediately to inform her teachers. As soon as she hung up, a young brunette nurse was smiling at her.

"You must be Samantha," She said softly as she got closer to her, sticking out her hand. "Or, you prefer Sam, don't you?" The smile on her face was warm and genuine, but Sam couldn't help but feel a little creeped out.

"How—"

"I recognize you from all the pictures your mom shows me," She said immediately, clearing up any suspicion that Sam had. She just nodded, feeling her stomach push dangerously upwards towards her throat. The nurse was leading her down the hallway when Sam realized that this probably wasn't such a great idea.

_One week, _she reminded herself sternly. _You've already told the school, and you owe the woman that much._ It wasn't much of a pep talk, but it was enough. She stepped in the elevator with the woman, taking the last cold sips of her coffee and loosening her jacket a bit.

"Um how…how is she?" Sam asked nervously, watching the ground as she undid the belt around her waist.

"She's really good, Sam. I don't want you to think any differently. She would've gone home weeks ago if it weren't for…the special circumstances."

Right, right. Special circumstances. I.E., Sam wasn't deemed suitable to watch after her mother, and with no one else around, she may slip back into her old depression. Might lose her way again. Might go back to the feelings she had had that horrible night three months ago. None of this was Sam or her mother's idea. It had all been—

"Jared is being especially gracious with her treatment," The nurse said and Sam felt her stomach boil. Yeah, he'd be gracious with his money, but when it came to having anything to do with Sam, that wasn't probable. The elevator doors opened and Sam felt her stomach lurch to her throat.

"And what kind of treatment is that?" Sam asked as she stepped out timidly. The nurse seemed to be in a hurry, and all Sam wanted to do was go very slowly. Take baby steps. Hopefully never reach that door that held her mother just beyond its presence.

"We had her on anti-depressants until about five days ago," The nurse said joyfully. "She's been very good in her recovery. If things go according to plan, she might even be back in the house before you realize."

Sam wondered idly if that could be true. When her mom first came here, and there were no signs of her coming out anytime soon, Jared had 'claimed' to take responsibility of Sam. Of course, he'd only spoken to her once on the phone to assure her that he would be paying for her mother's care, the cost of the house and whatnot. While having a rich father who loved to steer clear of her life had sounded great at first, it just made her sick to her stomach now.

Still, she missed her mom. She even missed the fighting of their past. In the month or so before Freddie's disappearance, her mother had become practically comatose, and when Sam flew off the handle, her mother slipped farther and farther away into the depths of her being. Sam still blamed herself for not being around more, for not caring enough.

Then again, she was probably just lucky that she had been there that one night. If she hadn't, who knows what things would be like now?

They were there now, and Sam hadn't paid any attention to what the nurse had been saying up until this point. She paused just outside the view of the patient inside, and the nurse walked right in.

"Hello Pam, how are you?"

"Very good."

"I have a bit of a surprise for you."

Sam knew that was her cue.

_You haven't seen her at all since you brought her in, _Sam accused herself. _Go. You owe the woman that much._

It all seemed to come back to that statement—Sam owed her.

She walked in quietly, staring her mother right in the face. She didn't acknowledge her arms, where she knew that if she looked closely enough, she'd find faded lines that would eventually become scars. No, she stared right into those big blue eyes that she had inherited from her. She stood still for a moment, soaking in the presence of the person she hadn't seen in months, lying in that hospital bed, fixing her with the same expression.

And then, without really meaning to, they both began to cry.

x

"Are you okay?" was Freddie's first question. Sam rolled her eyes at her mother who smiled at her before putting another spoonful of pudding in her mouth.

"I'm perfectly alright, Freddie, thanks," Sam said as gently as she could. She'd been thinking a lot about Freddie in the moments when her mom had been asleep over the past week. She listened to her heart like she had decided, and she realized that she did care about him. Probably not as much as he cared about her, but still.

"I was… I was just so worried…"

"I had some stuff to work out."

"Can you tell me about it?"

"Later, definitely. When am I getting my homework?"

"Uh, I was just going to swing by your house right now and drop it off. Hey, why did you request to get your h—?"

"I'll meet you there in ten minutes."

She was tired of his questions, especially when she fully intended on answering them later. She hung up quickly, and then fixed her mom with a look.

"You're leaving now, huh?" Pam asked. She looked sad, but she also looked like she understood. Sam had barely left the hospital in the past week—she had things to take care of, a life to get back to.

"I'll be back to visit as soon as possible," Sam said softly, standing up and placing a kiss on her mother's forehead. It wasn't something she usually did, but hey. Almost everything about her had changed. And, bizarrely, she was starting to like it. "Summer vacation starts soon. Plus, the nurse said that she thinks you'll be able to come home pretty soon."

Pam's eyes took on a faraway glance and a smile from a distant memory took over her mouth.

"I would like that," She said softly.

"Me too, Mom. Take care of yourself, okay?"

"You too, Sammy. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

Her mother blew her a kiss and Sam smiled at it before walking out of the room. Out to the hallway, into the elevator, into the lobby, and out the front door. Down the street, towards her house, where somebody she missed would be waiting for her.

x

"Sam?" Freddie called as he pushed his way through the front door. After no response, he sighed and took her work out of his bag. It had weighed him down on the way over and as he stared at the immense pile he wondered if Sam would even find the endurance to finish all of it. He carried it in both hands to her room where he plopped it all down on her dresser with a dull thud. He turned around then towards her bed and noticed the piece of paper on the floor near her bed. Feeling particularly nosy, he picked it up and began to read the words underneath the line that scratched them out.

**-Mom**

**-School**

**-Carly**

**-Parole**

**-Missy**

**-Freddie**

Freddie stared at his name, a V forming between his eyebrows. He wondered for a moment what this meant when he heard the front door open.

"Freddie?"

His heart faltered for a moment at the sound of her voice and then picked up again in double time. He placed the paper roughly where he'd found it and walked out into the hallway.

And there she was, at the other end, taking her coat off and hanging it on the rack. When she turned around, opening her mouth very slightly as if she intended to call his name again, she caught sight of him and stopped abruptly. Freddie stared at her for the moment that they were both still. Pink in her cheeks, glimmer in her eye, the blonde of her hair caught in the light. The smile that crossed her face.

Then he didn't have time to look anymore, because she was running right for him, and in almost the same moment, she slammed into him and threw her arms around his neck, pushing them a good couple of inches backwards as she started laughing.

"I missed you," She said quietly, and then she kissed him.


End file.
